


The Vindictive Paradise

by Bondmaiden



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Adult Verse, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Transformation, Concubine Kuroko, Death, Emperor Akashi, M/M, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:05:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 63,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bondmaiden/pseuds/Bondmaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>#17:</b> <i>Kuroko resisted succumbing to the pressure back then, knowing the traps lying behind Akashi’s invitation, but his eyes have seen through it all. Now, with nowhere else left to hide, he’s forced to flee the comforts of his pavilion and relocate to another. What other place is better than right by His Majesty’s side? Where he can have access easily, just as he wanted? This is Akashi’s chessboard. And he is a pawn in the city of squares.</i><br/></p>
</blockquote><br/>Kuroko is only sixteen when he enters Emperor Akashi's household as one of his Imperial Consorts. And to survive, he either has to gain the title of His Majesty's favourite, or live the rest of his life away in abandonment.<p>
  <i>For those who believed in this fic, this is for you.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a rose bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to write this after spending almost like a solid thirteen years of my life reading about chinese dynasties and i thought it was hardcore kickass. also, i'm an idiot with grammar, and historical discrepancies might occur. heck can i just say that i'm copy-pasting chinese empire right into japan with akashi in modern times? guilty pleasure fic, also warning in advance, this stuff is probably going to get a bit psychotic or disturbing, but i'll try to put some warning without spoilers? also, ratings will increase over time. so yeah, enjoy as much as you can. also, comments or criticisms are great too, b/c i'm just meh at this idk. ヽ(；▽；)ノ **enjoy!**

Nine days, four hours, and twenty-eight minutes.

That's how long Kuroko Tetsuya has officially become one of the Imperial Consorts of the Akashi Household.

That's how long Kuroko finds himself clad and draped with multiple layers of posh brocade, crafted silks with embroidered landscapes of preening peahens and winter plum blossoms, eyes highlighted with red eye shadows and lips slicked with glossy paint, thin wrists shackled by pearl encrusted bangles, and ankles fastened with a stack of white jadeite anklets, which rattle like finely made wind chimes whenever he moves his feet. Everything about him exudes royalty, grandeur, luxury that nobody else can attain, as he's one of the three hundred faces that represents Japan, that represents the woven threads of tradition, _that_ represents the name of His Majesty Akashi Seijūrō himself. 

That's how long he has become one of the omegas responsible for carrying the future lineage of the emperor's bloodline.

That's how _long_ he's been imprisoned by this foreign fate.

* * *

  
**the vindictive paradise**   
_a rose bride_   
  


* * *

_"I've come to collect you, Kuroko Tetsuya-sama."_

_The blonde who sits with his legs folded underneath him takes the chance to stare at the teen with his bright golden eyes, but there's an unmistakable twinge of weariness slowly corroding him from within. Dressed in an obviously tailored suit with silver cufflinks and a single hoop earring, he introduces himself as the model-turned-minister of Japan, Kise Ryota, and he wastes no time in making the details explicit to Kuroko's caretakers. He does everything primly; straight-faced and not missing a single heartbeat from the way he answers their questions as though he's practiced doing this for all of his life._

_It's a futile attempt, but Kuroko tries it anyway._

_"Can't I stay with my parents and grandmother?" the teen asks, lowering his eyes respectfully. "I know it's a bit too much to ask from you—"_

_"—and you're completely right, it's a bit too much to ask for, Kuroko-sama," Kise interjects with a thin smile, and his voice is brittle. "You know that you're an omega, right? People like you are already so rare in Japan and we're sent everywhere to scout for the remaining ones from time to time. Well," he chuckles, rubbing his nape, "Omegas have a unique scent anyway so it's not so hard for us to find them."_

_Kuroko doesn't miss the way Kise has his ears and tail out, fluffy and swaying steadily in the small confines of Kuroko's cramped living room. It's a way for the blonde to say that he's a full-fledged lethal alpha, domineering predators with an animalistic trait that are tiers higher than the boilerplate betas, and betas are the ones with the typical animal traits. Alphas are popularly recognized as proud creatures who won't hesitate to show their masculinity despite having the ability to conceal their animalistic features, and if that means they have to live with their tail, ears, wings or horns jutting out all the time, then so be it._

_And then there's Kuroko, one of the blank omegas, one who's blessed with the ability to receive the traits of the alphas or betas who mate with him._

_That's why omegas are so precious to the emperor._

_That's why Kuroko has to go._

_That's why they're crying._

_"What happens if… if we don't want to let Tecchan go…?" his grandmother croaks feebly, her sparse eyelashes fluttering with unshed tears that threaten to rain down her cheeks. Chopstick thin fingers dig deeper into the worn material of her kimono and strands of her greying hair fall over her face. "Our Tecchan is so important to us—"_

_"—and even more important to the country, ma'am," Kise swiftly cuts her off, point blank. He makes a show of adjusting his tie and ensuring that everything's in place, but Kuroko knows that he's just trying to waste time, to let them teeter over the edge of expectation, and letting them crash down from the mounting hope. "I hope you know that the punishment for refusing to hand over your omega child to the emperor is lynching at the public square." He pauses and a look of mock contemplation crosses over his face. "For everyone." And his bright eyes flicker over to meet Kuroko's own. "Including you."_

_The most heartbreaking sound of his mother sobbing echoes in the house, and Kuroko couldn't sleep that night._

* * *

It isn't a secret that the 104th emperor of the Akashi Empire needed a wife to continue their lineage. 

Their dynasty always stood out from the rest of the other rulers from the neighboring countries, since the ones bearing the name Akashi have inherently bloodied crimson hair, murderous eyes, fair skin and a sharp tongue. In the past, thousands of omegas were gathered inside the royal court— _strictly omegas only, no betas allowed, execution on the spot is permissible if one is exposed_ —but they were barely touched by the emperors and so, they lived and died futilely without even achieving their true purpose. Needless to say, this makes the number of omegas wandering outside the palace grounds gradually decline over the years, and the ones who've presented as omegas are quickly substituted inside the palace within merely a couple of days.

So Kuroko can't say that he's surprised to be absorbed into the imperial ranks so soon.

It's only been two days after he came into his inheritance as an omega: His knees gave way while he was in the midst of the bustling city with his mother, finalizing their checklist for the week's groceries, and suddenly everything becomes a wet blur to him as his skin gets overly sensitive from a mere graze of cloth, and he reeks of pheromones for miles around. Sticky thighs dripping with strange liquid that he isn’t sure of, peaked nipples and harsh whines—and there're faces, faces of hungry alphas and curious betas who see him as fresh meat, and his only saving grace is his mother, who tugs him by the arm and starts running. The heat's horribly unbearable when he reaches home, and he locks himself inside his room to stifle lewd moans against a pillow while rutting against the coarseness of his bed sheets. 

Just as soon as the torture's over and he finally gains a semblance of what day it is, Kise Ryota came for him. 

"—and Aominecchi's a bit dangerous if you're not careful with him," the blonde babbles, more like talking to himself if anything. "But it's really great to play basketball with him when he's not busy reading those gravure magazines! Ah, but I don't think you'll see Murasakibaracchi anytime soon because he's always stuck in the kitchen—Midorimacchi's the same too, married to his work and his office is his house—"

Kuroko drowns out his voice like how you drown a cat. 

By letting it wail and screech until there's nothing left but silence.

His eyes are already weary of his pavilion's magnificence and he just wants to crawl back into one of his old t-shirts and shorts, sitting in front of a whirring fan in the humidity of his room instead of getting all dolled up in glamorous designer kimonos and air-conditioned living areas. The fancy, high windows that encompasses the entirety of the wall in order to give him the perfect view of his own garden shines with slivers of sunlight falling onto the carpet, and there are barely any dust particles that float around in the space, but everything, just _everything_ makes him sick to his stomach and all he ever wants is to go home. 

"—it's a bit scary if you go there by yourself; I really don't recommend it because the ones who live there are loonies, I tell you," his keeper prattles on, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disagreement. "The palace is already gracious enough to let them stay there even when they're not useful, not to mention that they're a bunch of ingrates," he adds with a mumble, "So avoiding that area is definitely the best way to go—"

There are heavily blossoming silk cotton trees grown extensively in his courtyard, littered here and there amidst bushes of azaleas, and it paints a charming scene of greens and pinks nestled between stone lanterns. A nearby fish pond with a classical bamboo waterfall mouthpiece serves its purpose to provide some tranquilizing sound for lonesome days, which is almost every day, but even then, there's a lingering emptiness in his heart that can't be nursed. When nightfall comes, it gets worse as servants would fill up the granite containers with some gasoline and put them inside these decorative pieces, washing away the darkness with somber amber glows, before retreating to remove themselves from his presence. His now venerable presence. Left to entertain his own thoughts, his own needs. 

Kuroko wants to go home. 

_Badly._

"—summer days are especially nice because you get the chance to walk around the courts, but you definitely can't enter them unless you're on some official business," Kise, ceaselessly, drones into other topics within the span of a few minutes. "And then if you feel like it, I can take you to the orchard if you want to eat these delicious summer melons! They have this golden flesh inside," he mimicks their roundness with his hands, squeezing what seemed to be an imaginary fruit, "And it's so sweet you won't even believe that—"

The teen palms his cheek and stares at his bodyguard under half-lidded lashes.

Kise Ryota, 23-years-old. To say that he's a bodyguard is probably an understatement, but officially, that's the title bestowed upon him. Since he found Kuroko, it's his task to guide and take care of him as much as he could before he leaves, whilst juggling in his duties as a minister—of _what?_ Kuroko wonders—and ensuring that no harm will befall one of the emperor's courtesans. He sits in the corner of the room on a particularly unique piece of an armchair, dressed in his customary suit of dreary grey and a pale blue tie, with his cheerful golden eyes trained on Kuroko as though he's the most important person on Earth, and his lips just won't. stop. _moving._

Honestly speaking, Kise can be a bit tiring to handle, especially when he gets all chatty like this. It's one of the first things Kuroko learned within the span of nine days, of course.

"—and I thought that I was lazy! Aominecchi is even lazier than me, but somehow, he always gets his clothes torn up! So Momocchi always scolds him for it because, well, Momocchi is one of the royal designers so she really takes care of her creations and then Aominecchi, the big idiot, always ends up tearing his suit a new hole or two because—"

Kuroko's eyes lazily drift over to the man's bushy tail that peeked from behind him. 

A wolf. Peaked white ears and ashen tail. 

As an alpha male, Kuroko thinks that it's rather disconcerting to see a childlike, happy-go-lucky adult like Kise. Perhaps it's owing to the fact that Kise was previously a model so he needed to maintain a good rapport. And then somehow, he vanished from the magazine covers and reappeared on the television screen months later during an official ceremony at the palace, and nobody questioned his disappearance. Kise, too, didn't bother offering explanations for it. From the way his silken hair falls over his eyes in carefully trimmed layers, to the way he beams at every glance Kuroko took, he doesn't seem possible enough to exude an air of hostility and authority, unlike the average alphas he's used to seeing on the city roads. If anything, Kise radiates a warming glow of bliss, like melted sunshine and springy marshmallows, and that's how he carries himself around others too.

How strange. 

How _very_ strange.

"—Kuroko-sama?"

The pale boy perks up when he hears his name being called. 

Within five quick leaps, Kise breaches Kuroko's comfort zone and peers downwards to stare at him curiously, worry lacing his eyes. "Is the heat getting to you? Should I lower the temperature?" His nimble hands make a quick grab for the remote controller and there are a few beeps echoing in the emptiness of the room before he slides the device back on the table again. "There." He sounds accomplished, very much pleased of himself, and has his hands on his hips. "Thank god we're not outside today. Getting a heatstroke would be terrible!"

"Yes, getting a heatstroke would be terrible," Kuroko echoes, and leaves it at that.

If Kise noticed Kuroko's lack of participation in his conversations, he doesn't make an effort to show it. Rather, the blonde allows his eyes to trail after the teen's line of sight, and settles on the plain wall adjacent to them. It's empty, just like his voice. 

And then an uncanny smile flits across Kise's lips. 

"Yeah, it is."

**「つづく」**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#2:** _'Sick?' Kise blinks, mildly disturbed at the notion of the boy getting ill when it has only been nine days ever since he entered the imperial grounds. If it's just a normal passing sickness, in which he hopes it is, then some counter-issued medicine is more than enough to cure him. But what if it isn’t? No doubt if word gets out that Kuroko's feels unwell, and this piece of news happens to spread through grapevine between the servants living within the walls of the pavilion, and travels even to the ones outside the court… then surely the boy's rivals will take full advantage of the situation. Sabotaging new concubines is a sick hobby of the older ones, but it's their sole form of entertainment. Kise can't bring himself to trust any of the handmaidens or even the helpers in charge of maintaining Kuroko's quarters because anyone can get bribed at **any** time and nobody should be trusted at all, even within an inch of their life. And certainly not him too—but then again, he's the most credible one out of the rest. _


	2. some of them want to use you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i pretty much just jumped into the story, but i'll make the details known as the story progresses! thanks for everyone who commented and left kudos, i really appreciate it. also, i'm writing this on the basis of kise as an adult (still an idiot one, nonetheless) but since he's involved in official business, it does call for some seriousness? and i've written until chapter 8 so far and akashi's already made his appearance, so i better just hurry up and update. enjoy!

Kise wonders if this boy knows what he's in for.

Seirin High School freshman Kuroko Tetsuya came out as an omega and looked pretty much like a little hatchling. From the way his powdery blue hair sticks out in tufts to the way his skin looks very uncared for, even Kise had his doubts when he first came to pick up the new omega so that he could be included in Akashi's harem. If this was the previous dynasties, where they had a select few periods of parading the new courtesans for the reigning emperor to bestow rankings and titles, then Kise surely would've gotten the brunt of immense scolding for bringing such an ugly creature with him. But really now, with the lack of breeding omegas available in Japan—with no thanks to Akashi's ancestors, he supposes beggars can't really be choosers in the end.

Though it does mean two things:  
(i) there isn't an established system of ranked concubines, and  
(ii) there aren't any more imperial parades in front of the emperor himself.

While others would think that it's a good thing, Kise begs to differ. For one, Kuroko will never possibly get a chance to meet with Akashi personally, unless he catches the man's interest. With Kuroko's lack of presence, he knows this is already heading into a terrible, terrible direction.

In the silence of the night, Kuroko eats his meals soundlessly and picks only the dishes served closest to him. Just from Kise's observation as he stands beside the young concubine, he realizes that it'll take a while before Kuroko himself would begin shifting to accommodate more omega features to add up to what he currently has. Eleven days and still counting after his inheritance, the blonde has seen several miniscule changes in the boy, in which his skin looks rather moisturized by now (maybe it's also thanks to the fact that the servants made sure that he was well-groomed under Kise's orders) and his hair has become a lot tamer than before (perhaps also thanks to the servants, again, for attacking Kuroko's mane with brushes and serums).

_'With a bit more time, he'll probably get more omega traits,'_ Kise speculates deep within his mind, putting a finger to his bottom lip as he continues observing how Kuroko's long sleeves slide downwards to reveal a pale, bony wrist. And how the boy panics slightly when the fine material's about to get dipped into the soy sauce is another enthralling thing to watch. _'He's definitely going to look girlier—well, not that it's hard, he's already feminine enough for a boy anyway. Wonder if it's going to start from his face or his hair.'_ By now, the man has already shifted his weight from one foot to another, and tries to procure images inside his head. _'… mhmm, yeah, definitely starting from his face. Guess I'll let the handmaidens know later so that they'll put in more effort on his skincare regime then.'_

Within less than ten minutes, Kuroko has already placed his chopsticks together and mumbles a short, "Thank you for the meal," before taking his crystal glass of drink. He raises the glittering piece and nestles the rim between painted lips, taking short gulps of water and tiling his head back to expose a pale column of neck and a bobbing throat. It's almost transfixing to watch how proper Kuroko is, despite coming from a scratchy background of an archetypal Japanese family. No need to arrange for intensive lessons on etiquette then, so Akashi will probably be pleased when Kise presents Kuroko whenever the boy has attained perfection in the future. 

Though there's one more thing that Kise needs to fix about Kuroko though. It never ceases to amaze him how little the courtesan eats.

Sneaking a glance to look at the sandalwood table, the man's not surprised to see that out of the prosperous number of ninety-nine dishes served to Kuroko, he only nibbled from the three plates closest to him. The remainder of stir-friend pork, sizzling beef cutlets, steaming soupy stews, delicately seasoned vegetables and the likes are all untouched, just like the days before. Arguing proved useless though; Kise knows this because he tried it before. Kuroko has a strong mind of his own, saying that it's such a terrible waste of time, money, and ingredients, before requesting that the kitchen should only bring simple delicacies for each mealtime so that no wastage will occur.

But a tradition's a tradition. And Kise's orders are absolute, no matter what Kuroko says.

So defiant, in his own ways, until the boy upholds his own morals and eats only the barest of essentials before leaving the rest of them to handle the problem on their own. 

There's the sound of a chair scraping against the white marble floors and then Kise belatedly discovers that he's too much into a world of his own until he hadn't realized that Kuroko's already leaving, letting his apricot-tinted robes to trail behind him. Little chimes jingle in the air, following the rhythmic motions of the boy's feet, and his pace soon picks up in speed. Not wanting to be left behind, Kise hurriedly catches up with his charge and folds his hands behind his back, following Kuroko through the living room. Together, they pass by the dressing chambers and reached all the way to the bedroom, where Kuroko then proceeds to slump face-forward onto his bed, lying motionless. Maybe re-enacting a dead body, who knows? 

A wry smile then crosses Kise's thin lips, and his tail sways in the air. 

Cute boy, really. Such a shame that he's the property of Akashi himself.

"Sleeping after eating is bad, Kuroko-sama," he chides softly, opting to stand behind the boy. After all, he can't simply sit anywhere he pleased, even though it doesn't look like Kuroko would mind. A rule is a rule is a _rule_. And Kise's made to follow rules—unless he fancies getting his fingers crushed for disobeying the emperor. "Come on, wake up, wake up. Let's get you bathed so that you'll lose some of that sleepiness, okay?"

Silence.

Kuroko remains still.

Kise stares.

And then came a muffled reply.

"Please give me ten minutes, Kise-san. I feel sick."

_'Sick?'_ Kise blinks, mildly disturbed at the notion of the boy getting ill when it has only been nine days ever since he entered the imperial grounds. If it's just a normal passing sickness, in which he hopes it is, then some counter-issued medicine is more than enough to cure him. But what if it isn’t? No doubt if word gets out that Kuroko feels unwell, and this piece of news happens to spread through grapevine between the servants living within the walls of the pavilion, and travels even to the ones outside the court… then surely the boy's rivals will take full advantage of the situation. Sabotaging new concubines is a sick hobby of the older ones, but it's their sole form of entertainment. Kise can't bring himself to trust any of the handmaidens or even the helpers in charge of maintaining Kuroko's quarters because anyone can get bribed at **any** time and nobody should be trusted at all, even within an inch of their life. 

And certainly not him too—but then again, he's the most credible one out of the rest.

Also the most _charming_ one, but he'll get back to that later.

Willing himself to scoot closer, Kise tries to elicit a proper response out of the teen. "Kuroko-sama, I'll call a doctor for you right away so please—"

"—it's nothing, please don't call the doctor," Kuroko mildly interjects, albeit sounding a tad bit drained than the usual. A shaky hand waves him off, and Kise's almost tempted to reach over and check his temperature—but grabbing Kuroko's hand will get his limbs severed off, so he fidgets on the spot and keeps his lips tightly pursed when the boy adds, "I'll be fine in a few more minutes, so don't worry yourself."

_'A few more minutes, huh?'_

Kise's almost tempted to disobey, but acting irrationally would get him into more trouble. In some cases, it would pay not to give too much attention to certain concubines. Spoiled beyond imagination, they'd do anything ranging from throwing childish tantrums to feigning sicknesses in hopes that word of their actions would reach the emperor's ears so that he'll take pity and visit them. Oldest tactic in the history, Kise knows, but Kuroko doesn't appear capable enough of such wretched ideas. If anything, the pale boy drowns far too much in his heavy robes and looks perfectly miserable to him. Almost like a creature washed away from the safe hands of his home. 

How pitiable.

"… _aaah_ , if you say so…" Kise resignedly sighs, ruffling his hair and teasing the tips of his furry ears to alleviate some of the itch to pinch Kuroko's fingers. "I'll tell the servants so that they'll draw you a nice, hot bath then. Want some lavender oil in it to remove your stress too?"

Another pause.

The disenchanted consort merely nods and then stays unmoving. "Yes please, and thank you, Kise-san."

With a practiced little bow—a bit over the top, but it's obviously one of Kise's redeeming trademarks, the blonde grins confidently. "As you wish, no need to thank me." Clipped footsteps then resonate through the bedroom once more as his shoes tread on the polished floors, and he doesn't even bother to toss his charge another glance. He knows. In the end, the sickness of the heart isn't something that anyone can cure, and he certainly won't even bother trying when he doesn't even have the key to Kuroko's heart. Not even the greatest magician can dampen the desire to disappear from within these trapping walls, and he's already witnessed far too many courtesans of Akashi resulting to dangerously unstable methods to keep themselves company. 

Ah well. 

Kuroko will reach his breaking point, soon enough. 

And Kise smiles contentedly at the thought, drawing the doors to a close behind him. 

"How miserable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#3:** _"Anyway, Kuroko-sama, if you don't have anything planned, let's get you bathed right away. After that you'll have your breakfast—and if you're really interested in going out, then I'll arrange for a car? I can drive you around! You can see the great," he pauses and surreptitiously looks to the side, scratching his cheek, "Um what-they-call-it lake and the huuuuge spirit-something-or-another tree they have up there in the shrine!"_


	3. some of them want to abuse you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY KUROKO! *u* lunar new year and kuroko's birthday, how wonderful. since it's a holiday today, i have some time off to upload this chapter. story is moving exceptionally, slow, yes i'm aware of it, but thank you Homra_Kid, Pepla007, belafiorre, Imorb, Quicksilver80, jonna594, Aki00113, Serena90, troisroyaumes, readerofasaph, akuma_river, MissStark and saberwing, and the 26 guests who've left kudos for this story! /hugs

The mornings are always tranquil. 

Dispossessed, Kuroko rouses from his sleep and peers from the edge of his goose down comforters. The sunlight filters through the room in thin stripes, falling over the interior decorations and highlighting the abject pieces littered here and there. He still can't get used to the pomegranate reds contrasting against edgy pebble finishing in his room, where the dangling lights resemble lanterns from the late years, and potted plants which failed to install some life overall. Homesickness isn't something that can easily be cured, he knows, but what can he do to mend the ache in his heart? 

Such finery couldn't replace his need for cheap cotton shirts and bustling streets.

Kuroko remembers the first time he's ushered into this new living area—his very own pavilion, they called it. Servants dressed in traditional garbs bowed, welcoming him into his new life, and he recalls feeling disoriented when he takes in the new sights and sounds that would soon cement itself as part of his new lifestyle. The palace grounds itself is tremendously huge and his quarters is located somewhere closer to the west walls, while the emperor himself lives in the heart of the imperial city. One could never see the same sight twice, a servant whispered to him. 

With thanks to Kise, who has got to be the chattiest person alive on Earth, he tells Kuroko that each courtesan has his or her own 'house' and they live in separate parts in the imperial grounds. _"It helps keeping rivalries to a minimum,"_ he jibes, winking while he's at it. 

Due to the decreasing number of courtesans, the blonde also told him that there're plenty of abandoned areas now—some are haunted, he gossips with a scandalized look, and others are just empty because the old ones have been disposed of. 'Disposed of' in what way, Kuroko doesn't know, but he keeps the unsettling feeling away from his insecure heart and tries not mind when he has to balance on granite stepping stones. He makes his way into his traditional-modern hybrid of a house, complete with glazed tiles stemming from an ancient history, and stops to admire several winding columns with their impressive carvings of dragons and phoenixes. 

Just why on Earth he recalls this, Kuroko doesn't know, so he tries to pull the covers over his head and rolls over to sleep again. Whatever it is, the teen doesn't like to remember such painful details of his life. But no such luck. As if on cue to torment him even further, Kise enters the bedroom with a flourish. He has this funny sort of way when he walks; in which his steps always seem to be alighted with some form of joy, as though he's never faced pain before, and the silly grin on his face speaks volumes of his permanently cheerful disposition. 

"Kuroko-sama, good morning!" he greets merrily, stopping short of a few meters from reaching the teen's bed. "How are you feeling? I hope you've recovered from your sickness last night." He pauses for a split second, a sympathetic haze obscuring his eyes when he sees the state that Kuroko's in. "Or… probably not. Do you want me to call the doctor for you today?"

No doctors. Absolutely no doctors because he doesn't need to be looked at as a wimp, he decides. 

"I'm all right," Kuroko repeats the same sentence from the night before, despite knowing it's a lie. Rustling sounds follow soon enough as he untangles his body from the sheets. No use trying to sleep in when his attendant is a faithful dog—the wolf ears and tails are just decorations to hide his true nature—and he spots Kise attentively staring at him with the intensity of an eco-friendly fluorescent lightbulb. "… is there something you need?"

Upon being caught off guard, the man jumps back and sheepishly rubs his head, grinning.

How odd, Kuroko thinks, but he lets it slide. His gut intuition tells that something is definitely _off_ **somewhere** inside his bodyguard though, but he doesn't seem to be exhibiting any symptoms on the outside.

"Ah, um, well," Kise starts with a series of thoughtful stutters, before he finally puts his mind to it and looks at Kuroko pointedly. "It's already the tenth day and I know that most courtesans don't want to step out into the sunshine because they don't want to get suntanned, but that's why we have lotions with SPF 130! Just give me the word, Kuroko-sama, and I'll get the servants to bring it in for you!"

… sometimes, Kuroko's inclined to believe that God made some people beautiful, at the expense of having their intelligence taken away. Can't have everything now, can they? 

The teen places both his feet on the fur-lined carpet splayed under his bed and gets up, stretching a little. Kuroko's nightgown, an old-fashioned sleeping robe made from satin, glides over his skin as he loosens his limbs and he shivers at the foreign feeling. Silks, satins and cottons are definitely too different from one another, and now he regrets doubting his mother's words when they shopped together. Not that Kuroko will ever see her again… and he quickly goes back to the topic in hand to avoid melancholy. Kise. While he doesn't want to appear rude to his bodyguard, who's obviously trying his best to make Kuroko's stay as comfortable as possible, it gets a bit taxing when Kise seems to be suffering from a slight decline in his mental capability. What makes it worse is that his tail wags back and forth, mirroring a puppy—and at times like this, Kuroko hates having a soft spot for adorable, doting little animals like dogs. 

No. _Especially_ dogs. 

Finally heaving a sigh, he looks at Kise straight in his eyes. "I don't know where to go from here," he says, and decides that it's the best excuse he can manage for now. "I don't want to get lost in the palace. A meteor might fall and hit me if I'm not careful enough." A bit dramatic, but it's suitable for people like Kise.

"A… meteor?" the tall blonde repeats, his slender brows hiking up higher and higher by the second, now close enough to his hairline. While it seems to be that Kuroko has succeeded in making a complete fool of himself, he's also somewhat relieved to find out that Kise isn't as stupid as he looks. "I don't think this place is strategically located enough for a meteor to land, so you don't have to worry about it! Probably not the right season either!" he waves it off with a small laugh.

And then Kuroko frowns. Maybe not. 

"Anyway, Kuroko-sama, if you don't have anything planned, let's get you bathed right away. After that you'll have your breakfast—and if you're really interested in going out, then I'll arrange for a car? I can drive you around! You can see the great," he pauses and surreptitiously looks to the side, scratching his cheek, "Um what-they-call-it lake and the _huuuuge_ spirit-something-or-another tree they have up there in the shrine!"

Now this is where it gets complicated for Kuroko. While other courtesans would've jumped for joy at the opportunity, he's adamant to back away from them.

"I'll… think about it in my bath."

"Roger!" Kise is all too ready to please, as he sets about bustling from the vanity back to him, and kneels down in front of the boy without hesitation. "Please lift your foot, Kuroko-sama," he chirps, and Kuroko does that without a hitch. 

Cold hands and fingers skitter from under his soles and over his toes, and the boy resists a shudder prickling up his spine. It's always the same thing every day—anklets, jewelleries, bath, food, lazing around, food, more lazing around, food, even more lazing around, food, and then a shower before he's off for the night. Ten days ago, Kuroko would've been stuttering and denying Kise for getting down on his knees just to fasten some bejewelled anklets, but after being fiercely reprimanded and told not to lift a single finger, he's relatively used to the fact that Kise will do _anything_ for him—even the fussy task of putting the chiming anklets on him, and that's that. 

Doesn't mean he has to get used to the feeling of the man's fingers brushing over his ankles and gripping his feet though.

"All done." Kise gets up from his position on the floor and stands tall again, adjusting his jacket as he does. Today's suit is a navy blue one, Kuroko notices, and it's obviously yet another expensive pair because it's been pressed to perfection, complemented with a starched white shirt and a striped necktie sitting where it should be. Tall, strong, and well-built alphas like the blonde are gorgeous creatures to look at; especially considering the circumstance that he's a former model, so it's a given fact that he can make anything he wears look good. He tries to imagine Kise wearing a bin bag—those ugly black sort so that he'll look dastardly ugly no matter what, but the man steps away from him and beams goofily. "Can we get going now?"

Kuroko blinks, distracted. "Um, yes, we should." 

The dense weight circling his ankles reflects the heaviness in his heart, and it almost feels like those jadeite anklets are just fancy shackles to prevent his escape from the palace. With each step, shrill ringing sounds echo throughout his pavilion and he swears that they're the most obnoxious thing to wear, albeit deigned as a gift from His Majesty to Kuroko. In those days, he had a reputation for being the least noticed student in Seirin until his teachers forgot about him from time to time. But now, courtesy of these chimes, everyone lowers his or her chin in respect, everyone ceases to meet him in the eyes, and _everyone_ knows who he is wherever he strides. 

His Majesty's property. 

Don't touch him. 

Don't look at him.

Don't even breathe the same air as him.

Reverence isn't what he sought for, but this is what he gets in the end. 

"A human's adaptability is an amazing thing," Kise disrupts Kuroko's thoughts with a lingering look from the corners of his eyes, all sultry tainted with cheekiness. His long arms are crossed behind his head, rumpling his suit, but he doesn't care much for it. All the blonde does is to match his pace with Kuroko's as languidly as possible, and smiles away. "It's okay, Kuroko-sama, you can get used to this. The first time I got into the palace, I nearly got myself marked as shooting target practice. It's so horrible," he whines, "But thankfully I didn't get into any trouble because Murasakibaracchi came to my rescue."

Shooting target practice?

Wait, what?

Kuroko nearly does a double-take when the revelation dawns upon him. "What did you do to get yourself into that kind of situation?" he asks softly, almost afraid if he's breaching into a sensitive topic. "It must've been serious."

Much to his surprise though, Kise barks with laughter, his eyes forming little upturned crescents as moisture gathers at the corners of his lashes. Fingers wiping away at the tears that threatened to slip down his cheeks, the man continues smiling as he turns to face his keeper. 

"Nope, I just looked at Akashicchi in the eyes."

Their walk to the bathroom feels so far away now, like they’re located in another time and dimension, and Kuroko can't help himself but to feel a piercing chill jutting from within his ribcages. A sickening, twisting feeling swirls from the depth of his stomach and he knows he didn't hear it wrong— _Akashicchi_ , Akashi the emperor tried to use him as some form of target practice, just because Kise looked at him right in the eyes. Kuroko's fingertips twitch and before he realizes it, cold sweat trickles down his nape, drenching the neckline of his bedroom robe even in the chill of his quarters. 

Kuroko doesn't turn to look at the man—he doesn't think he can even manage to get to the bathroom at this rate, but it's all right. 

Because Kise's smile is more disturbing than helpful, if anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#4:** _"But you were born for it," Kise corrects him, determined to make the boy see everything else in a new light. Besides, he supposes Akashi hasn't had one like Kuroko before; someone so plain and ordinary, and the palace is so punishing and vengeful, so he takes delight in wanting to know how Kuroko will turn out in the end. To break others or to be broken by others. "You're only wasting your chance, Kuroko-sama. Fight everyone else and become the one who'll be crowned as the empress."_


	4. sweet dreams are made of these

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me for the late chapter, but assignments have been hellish, and enduring them is quite an achievement. (next week i've got mid-term tests and hella didn't study for them yet, nope, i'm gonna be dead, aren't i?) regardless, thanks so much for your comments, _akuma_river and ForgottenPrincess_ , and the rest of you guys for the kudos: _WolfNotFawn, OhBiteMe, himifusa, impertud, Athlum, LandofFandoms, Sunny (unicornfarmer), lunettes, AYMK00, adrianeline, antagonists, taikodrum (taiko), HinatasShadow, and the guests!_ i hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

_"Once upon a time, the procession is really different from this," Kise says in the silence of the car, clapping his hands together like how an excited child would. Kuroko knows that the man is trying his best to cheer him up right after wrenching him away from his family, but its impact is barely felt. Nevertheless, the blonde doesn't lose his spirit and goes on with vigour, miniscule starlight shining in his eyes. "I heard that instead of us alphas coming over to fetch you omegas, it was the complete otherwise. Omegas from all over Japan will come to the palace and get examined by the—uh, whatever they are—and after they get the approval, their family's houses will get renovated—aah, courtesy of the emperor, of course. Kinda like 'thanks for giving us your kid' or something?"_

_Kuroko nods._

_Not wanting to stop his fabulous tale, Kise obviously takes it as a sign to go on. "Because they're like the in-laws of the emperor, so their social standing must be different from the others. The emperor sets the date for the marriage, and when the day comes, there'll be parades on the road when the brides go away from their home! A sea of people will be on the roads, all the way to the palace," he gushes with enthusiasm, spreading his arms wide enough for Kuroko to catch a glimpse of it from the corners of his eyes. "It's so majestic, don't you think?"_

_"Yes."_

_He doesn't really care anymore._

_"That's what I thought too! Maaaan, I wish I'm an omega so that I can just live in the palace without doing anything," he whines like a child that needs to be pacified. "When I was around your age, I thought I was definitely going to be an omega because I looked so girly. And then I found out that I was an alpha instead—but hey, at least I'm a kickass wolf! Got a keen sense of smell and I can run real fast too. So glad I'm not a beta, I don't want to inherit those normal, boring animal traits. I mean, who wants to be a house cat, right? Definitely not me!"_

_"That's nice."_

_He feels detached from this conversation._

_"But anyway, don't you wonder why we don't do fancy parades like that anymore nowadays?"_

_"Yes."_

_He's getting too tired to think now._

_"Well, you know that there're lesser and lesser omegas around here, right? Can't afford to be picky anymore—gotta get 'em all, don't you think?" he jokes, probably making a reference to that game Kuroko once played before, but it invokes no reaction at all. No matter how disheartened Kise is, he's a very professional man and doesn't let it show, so he clears his throat and tries again. "So there's a new edict that only the ones that the emperor really trust should go out and get these omegas instead. It cuts down on time since we can pick up an omega in a snap! Sometimes Aominecchi—aah, he's another alpha, a panther, super pervy, one over ten not recommended as a friend, especially if you're an omega because he'll bone you—aaaand… where was I?"_

_"Picking up an omega."_

_His brain is on automatic and he looks out of the window._

_There are blurs of colours before his eyes, like a watercolour splash of sombre greys and diluted blues, before their car passes through what seems to be a large gate and then his eyes widen._

_Kuroko feels his heart gradually slip to a halt._

_"Oh, thanks! So Aominecchi sometimes gets dispatched with me because he's such a lecher and he can't keep his hands to himself, but I'm there to save the day. But then again, Aominecchi's so busy nowadays because of official stuffs so… since I have loads of free time, I'm covering his part."_

_The Forbidden City is nothing like what Kuroko's read before._

_His history teacher once said that there's a whole new realm within those thick walls, where it's fit only for the royals to live in, and few who made it inside would divulge the details of the majestic interior. The Bentley smoothly drives past saluting guards, who stare blankly at the car as though they know who's inside, and Kuroko sees a vast land behind them. The skies are still blue and the grasses are obviously green, but the atmosphere winds him up, makes him tense as though he's been whisked into an alternate dimension. Without realizing it, his spine straightens as he peers curiously at the window like a dog yearning to be released outside._

_"… Kuroko-sama?"_

_The teen faintly registers that his bodyguard's trying to get his attention, but he can't tear his eyes away from the sight. It's his new house—land, whatever it is—and he gets this choking feeling in his throat when he spots a few mountains looming in the distance. The sidewalks are paved with russet cobblestones and exquisite shrubs encompass them from left and right, and if he squints hard enough, he can see a few horsemen trotting along in the distance, wearing their tight-fitting uniforms. Blurs of crimson smear his vision every now and then, and Kuroko wonders what they are since they're hidden between the verdant trees growing everywhere, but when the forests soon give way, it's then he calls the whole Forbidden City as a ridiculously structured maze._

_"Aah, that? I know it looks kinda huge and all, but that's the square where Aka—"_

And then Kuroko wakes up, drenched in cold sweat. 

All he remembers are thick, winding pillars of red, and blurry skies in the horizon.

* * *

"You shouldn't be sleeping until the late evenings, you know." 

Kise has done nothing but to admonish and chide Kuroko left and right, as he stands still and watches the maids scrub the tiny boy raw. Half drowning in a large, claw-footed tub, he swishes around in the warm soapy water as an uncharacteristic vanilla scent perfumes the air, heady, almost intoxicating the wolf. Between the rough hands of the ladies, he spots a cheap bar soap being tossed around, and it wrenches a deep sigh from his lungs. Kise did question the maidens once—"Why didn't you use the bath lathers?"—and their replies are nothing short but a choir of, "Because Kuroko-sama says that the vanilla soap reminds him of a milkshake in the city," before bowing in reverence. 

So that's that. That's how it is anyway. 

Whatever Kuroko wants, Kuroko gets.

In exchange for his freedom, of course. 

"I know what I did was wrong." His powdery blue hair shivers lightly in the wind and Kise's golden eyes widen in surprise when he spots the boy bowing his head low, asking for forgiveness. "Sleeping in the evening left me dizzy. I won't be doing it anymore, Kise-san." Then he promptly lifts his chin when one of the girls straightens his back, running her callused fingers all over his hair as she works the shampoo into his scalp, eliciting a muffled groan from Kuroko. "P-please do it a bit more gently, Fuyutsuki-san."

"But your hair is still so coarse and untamed, Kuroko-sama," she answers with a feral glint in her eyes. Hell bent on making his hair soft, she squeezes more shampoo into her palm and the bottle wheezed as the last few squirts came out, smothering them dutifully on his head. "We have to tidy you up in case His Majesty summons you, of course! Can't have his fingers caught in your hair when romance happens," she winks roguishly. 

Water sloshes over the tips of the tub and falls over the raised platform, and Kise takes a few steps backwards so that his shoes wouldn't be soiled by them. He hides a wry smile at their work and decides that yes, he has picked some of the best attendants for Kuroko. _'Midorimacchi is gonna be so proud of me for not messing it up this time,'_ he thinks, and admires how hardworking Kuroko's handmaids are. They soap him up, every inch glossy, and they lift multiple shower heads attached to the sides of the dew-shaped tub, washing away and draining the dirty water. One elder lady twists a nearby tap open and fills the tub with more warm water once again as another works some conditioner on Kuroko's hair. 

It leaves the boy reminiscent of a washed kitten, Kise thinks. He's got the sulky, pouty look on his face and his pinkish cheeks are all puffed out as they twist and toil over him, trying their best to cleanse him of dirt and whatnot. The bathing experts have everything under control though; within minutes, they rinsed off the excess and tugged him to stand up, as they ran fluffy white towels over his limbs and torso in joint effort to dry him. Some of the ladies walked out to roll in a trolley, stacked with perfumed beads, powders, oils, hairdryer, comb, serums, and the blonde spots Kuroko stepping down the platform with a roll of his eyes, perhaps weary of this process. 

Normally, he'd leave his lips sealed through the dressing process and never bothered to speak unless he has a question. But today, while a servant patted powders over his arms and slicked some floral-scented oil up the ridge of his neck, Kuroko stares straight at Kise and tilts his head to the side. 

"Kise-san, I'll never leave this place, will I?"

It's a question, but it lacks an inquisitive tone when Kuroko says it. The blue-haired teen looks like he knows what the blonde will say, but he just wants affirmation from the man himself. Kise has nothing to hide, his hands are clean from bloodstains, but when this courtesan looks at him in that way—lowered lashes, a despondent glaze reflected in his eyes, and all so silent… it leaves him feeling guilty, as though he's the one who was accountable for caging him in this gilded labyrinth. So he wrings his hands and takes a few moments to observe how docile Kuroko's become over the days, how he raises his arms without a word when Fuyutsuki pats him with a fluffy puff and scents him all over with vanilla and lavenders, how _empty_ his shell has become without a single hint of a soul sleeping inside his ribs.

So the wolf does his best to grin and not bare his fangs. "No. You'll never leave this place, Kuroko-sama."

That's fact. 

Kuroko lowers his head and lets a manicured hand dust a layer of powder on the bridge of his nose.

"But once you're the Grand Empress, then you can do whatever you like."

That's also fact.

It makes the teen raise his head and his lips part with the weight of a half-formed question.

"You can't ever leave here, this palace, the Imperial Grounds, but when you have enough power in the court, then you can go in and out if you want," Kise amends himself with a nod. "But I don't think it's recommended because there'll be loads of people who'll try to assassinate you—it's dangerous." He swallows down a few more warning words, sentences, information, _everything_ because he wants to see how far Kuroko will stretch his fingers to brush against his much-yearned freedom, and offers a sedate smile. "Become Akashicchi's favourite and more doors will be open to you, Kuroko-sama."

"But I—"

A procession of robes bursts through the bathroom and Kuroko whirls around as some servants brought in rolling racks. While modern clothing is allowed in the palace grounds, it's highly unbecoming for one of the emperor's lovers to be dressed in them; hence Kise had ordered them beforehand not to allow those clothes to become part of Kuroko's wardrobe. So it's all silks, satins, French laces, heavy brocades and glittery organza fabrics that are dipped in palettes of varying colours, and they look like the wings of hundreds of butterflies as they flutter about. It's always quite a parade when it comes to clothes, and different styles will be unveiled at different parts of the days, so Kise enjoys seeing the air of confusion on Kuroko's face as he tries to decide on one of Momocchi's creations. The girl has an insatiable aptitude for high fashion, bless her.

Within minutes, he points at one in random; it's a gentle amber hue when they bring it out, a gradient that spreads to whiteness at the neckline, and verdant amaryllises adorn the hems like twining vines. They wasted no time in slipping it on Kuroko's body, tightening the sash and fashioning his short hair with a flowery _tsumami kanzashi_ by the side, and Kise thinks it takes all of Kuroko's willpower not to feel like he's a real-life dress up doll for the girls to play with. The boy seems a lot more reticent now, letting them put the final adjustments on his body, and Kise takes this as a chance to continue.

"Come on, Kuroko-sama," he coaxes, swishing his tail from side to side with a teasing glance. "What's the use of entering the harem if you're not going to try and impress the emperor? Lots of people out there would kill to have your spot, you know?" 

Dismayed, Kuroko bites back. "I didn't ask for this."

"But you were born for it," Kise corrects him, determined to make the boy see everything else in a new light. Besides, he supposes Akashi hasn't had one like Kuroko before; someone so plain and ordinary, and the palace is so punishing and vengeful, so he takes delight in wanting to know how Kuroko will turn out in the end. To break others or to be broken by others. "You're only wasting your chance, Kuroko-sama. Fight everyone else and become the one who'll be crowned as the empress."

"I'm not interested to be one."

"But you'll go crazy if you do nothing about it."

At this sort of talk, Kuroko appears reluctant and the servants took it as a cue to disperse themselves immediately. They packed up his belongings and removed their presence within minutes, leaving the two of them to stand around in the coolness of the bathroom. 

"I don't want to be here, Kise-san," the concubine murmurs under his breath as his shoulders droop. "I don't know how the palace works and I don't have anything."

Ah, that's where you're wrong, Kise's lips moved in time while he inches closer to his charge. At his sudden proximity, Kuroko stumbles upon his steps as he tries to back away, but the wolf follows each step with a disarming smile and lowers his head until he can stare into the boy's eyes. 

"But you have what others don't, Kuroko-sama," he coos. "You have me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#5:** _Kuroko cowers in the corner, pulling his body into a tight ball. Everything's a horrible nightmare, everything's a terrible dream that's a figment of his overactive imagination, everything's part of some light novels that he used to read, everything about the emperor's cruelty and his life and his inheritance and his fate—just **everything** is a sick, sick creation. Yet it doesn't wipe the slates clean. The boy still feels the biting coldness of the morning on his legs, and he pulls his knees closer to his chest._


	5. this is real love

The morning mist has barely spread its blanket into his gardens when Kuroko wakes up.

He thinks it's the eleventh—or maybe twelfth day that he's been here, and Kise's right. The startling emptiness of the palace was about to feast on him and he could feel his willpower drained with every beat of his heart. So last night, before he lowers his head on the downy pillow, before Kise pulls the sheets up to his chest, before the lights get switched off, _before_ he closes his eyes, Kuroko devises a plan to get away from the pavilion. Aware of his lack of presence, the boy wants to utilize it to the fullest, especially when the anklets are off. 

The mornings are heavy with mist and dewdrops, with barely any light penetrating through the thicket of shrubs and trees, and after minute observations with calculations, he thinks he can slip through the patrolling guards and escape through the back gates, where the beta servants lived. 

Settling on the plan is easier than acting it out.

He ties his sleeping robe tightly around his tiny waist and hikes the rest of the flowing materials under the sash. Fingers plucking at the locks of the sliding door at the corner of his bedroom, Kuroko slowly squeezes through the opened crack and doesn't forget to close it again, just like how it was the night before. The dim lights provided by the stone lanterns serve as a guiding beacon for him to tread on the stepping stones lightly, avoiding the windows where there might be watchful eyes, and passing through a stretch of grass before finally entering his supposed 'backyard' of the expansive pavilion.

Kuroko's never been here before; he hasn't taken a tour of his living quarters, unlike any other courtesans, and the regret wells up in his heart when his eyes flicker from left to right. A tarnished, somewhat crumbling building sits in the distance, foreboding, and he doesn't feel like approaching the place because the darkness has settled in considerably without the aid of the lanterns. Dead trees with their wiry branches loom over the roof that leads to the deepest edges of his gardens, and Kuroko belatedly wonders why the servants haven’t bothered to maintain this section of his pavilion. Perhaps his imagination is getting the better of him, or the chills shimmying up his spine are something else altogether, so he goes with his gut instinct and chose to inch closer to his right. 

The winding path that slips in and out of his garden tires him more than he can imagine, and he's grateful for the opaque shadows of the blooming cotton silk trees to provide him cover when he spots a guard strolling a few meters away. The man's slightly bigger than Kuroko (obviously a beta, because no alpha can be trusted near the emperor's courtesans unless they have his approval like Kise) and there are branching antlers sticking out from the bottom of his peaked cap. Presumably a stag, judging from how lethal those things can be, and Kuroko's somewhat thankful that he likes to watch the animal channels with his mom during the weekends.

So Kuroko waits in the shadows for the man to pass—not without the guard yawning, rubbing his eyes, ripping out a fart and then yawning again, before Kuroko holds his breath and lets his feet carry him as fast as they could. 

Underneath the mosaic of leaves overhead, the boy looks around warily in case of anyone tailing him, especially the keen Kise, and lets out a sigh of relief when there's no one around. The exit should be close by now, he thinks, because he's accidentally discovered a shortcut instead of passing through the servants' quarters, and that by itself is a good thing. God is definitely on his side, though he doesn't know which God, he's thankful all the same. Scurrying like a thief, he follows the nearby high wall and presses his back against it like some bad action movie when he slides closer to the unattended gates.

For a supposedly prized courtesan, this is some lousy security, Kuroko thinks, but he can't afford to complain when their laxness granted him escape. 

The iron-wrought gates barely creak when the pale teen pushes them open, and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip to hide his smile as he stealthily went beyond his boundaries. No lights shine down on him and no alarms ring when Kuroko sets his foot firmly on the ground outside his quarters, and although he knows now isn't the time to rejoice, he can't help but to toss a look behind his shoulders. Darkness beyond the gates, which held his new house, feels like a whirlwind of negative energy that's trying to suck him in, but Kuroko steels his heart and refuses to submit to his fate obediently. So he curls his lips and knits his brows together, giving a look dripping with resentment, and moves away from the place. 

Outside, there still isn't any improvement in lighting, save for some vague blurs of white, in which Kuroko supposes that they come from the gaps of street lamps here and there. He doesn't know where to go from here onwards because he got to this pavilion by car, and he knows it's a ridiculous feat to try and run away without a solid strategy, so the boy makes up his mind to stay close to the walls in case it can provide him some cover as he tries to hatch an escape plan. Following the lights, Kuroko trudges on the ground and then prematurely stops in his tracks. 

_"—this is the fourth one—"_

_"—too cruel, what would others think—"_

He hears voices and they can never be a good thing. 

Two male serving boys, clad in their cotton garbs and bandannas, are carrying what seems to be a white stretcher. Fortunately for Kuroko, they don't seem to notice him even as he stands there impassively, watching them, and they carried on with their conversation as loud as before. 

"I'm really getting tired of disposing them," one of the boys groans, sweat streaking his face as he hefts one of the ends of the stretcher. He looks to be in his teen years, just like Kuroko, but his muscled arms told him that the boy does a lot more heavy lifting than the average man. "I mean, seriously," he calls out over his shoulders to his partner, who rolls his eyes; "He goes through a frenzy and then bam, they end up dead. What's the point of having omegas if he's gonna keep killing them like this? Heck, he should leave some if he can't appreciate them!"

"Careful—the walls have ears, you dumbass," the other hisses, gritting his teeth. "I know what you mean, this—" he looks down on the stretcher, and it's only then Kuroko realizes that a thin cotton cloth covers something long, almost like a body, _please don't let it be a dead body_ ; "This is sick. I don't agree with his methods but he knows what he's doing for the country. We haven't had a crisis for ages, the crime rates are low, our economy is good, the people are happy… but y'know, I don't wanna be the parent to a kid who gets to be killed after a one night stand with him."

"Just because he's the emperor, he gets to do all sorts of reckless stuffs," the first one spits out, tightening his hold on the carrier until his knuckles bled white. "I regret working here. The pay's good but I can't take this anymore. I don't wanna be responsible for transporting his shit whims. What if karma gets back at me and when I'm married and I have a kid and it's an omega child, then he or she'll get taken away by the emperor, and y'know—dead because of this?"

His partner makes noncommittal sounds and continues slogging along the road, all the while shaking his head. 

As much as Kuroko doesn't want to acknowledge it, he's already picked up the contextual clues faster than he should've. The thing on the stretcher is a dead body. The emperor killed one of the omegas—one of his courtesans. Questions flooded Kuroko's mind and his fingers tremble with the thought of death, but why? Why would Akashi kill one of his wedded mates? Just for sick fun, like how Kise was almost made into target practice? Horrified is the tamest word that can be used to describe his sheer, undiluted terror right now. If this is how things work in the palace, then… he desperately needs to get back to his pavilion. **Now**. Before anyone else finds out about this and lets it become the death of him.

Willing himself to look at the death procession one last time, Kuroko gives the concubine with an appalling death one last respectful nod—then the gentle morning wind blows, sweeping the cotton sheet off the body. 

And his eyes widen.

A strangled sound attempts to escape his lips but Kuroko hurriedly bites down on his robe's sleeve, trying to ebb the frantic urge to vomit. He's never felt this fearful for his life before, so helplessly afraid and petrified until his legs refused to walk away from the sight, and it takes all of Kuroko's self-will not to faint right there and then. His bearings are already off; head giddy, eyes blurring, thighs shivering, and a wrenching feeling pulls on his guts, rendering him immobile. Kuroko covers his face and wants to forget what he's seen, but the image's forever imprinted onto the backs of his retinas and even when he closes his eyes, he sees the same thing over and over and over and _over_ again. 

Burnt to charcoals, he can't even tell if it was formerly a man or a woman. Eyes popped open, mouth eternally frozen in a soundless scream, outstretched fingers like they're yearning to grab on to salvation. Tufts of familiar-looking tails tinged with fiery shades trail on the ground, dragged along, and a plume of feather drifts into the breeze, flying away. The two servants wince at the sight but they squared their shoulders and hurried along the path furtively, hoping that nobody else would see the gruesome sight.

Kuroko cowers in the corner, pulling his body into a tight ball. Everything's a horrible nightmare, everything's a terrible dream that's a figment of his overactive imagination, everything's part of some light novels that he used to read, everything about the emperor's cruelty and his life and his inheritance and his fate—just _everything_ is a sick, sick creation. Yet it doesn't wipe the slates clean. The boy still feels the biting coldness of the morning on his legs, and he pulls his knees closer to his chest.

He doesn't get up to leave until the sun breaks across the horizon, and he fears the strength of his own loneliness. 

_"A human's adaptability is an amazing thing,"_ Kise's voice repeats in his head like a broken tape, and Kuroko staggers back into his pavilion.

* * *

"Your breakfast is going to get cold if you don't eat it soon!"

The boy jerks out of his stupor and stares at Kise blankly. 

As if he's trying to make a point, the blonde nudges the tray stacked on a tiny table, and he repeats. "Breakfast, Kuroko-sama?"

Today, it's breakfast in bed. He can't seem to summon the willpower of slipping out from under the covers anymore, and it looks like the blonde has taken pity on him so he brings in the breakfast and waits for him to eat. There are simple dishes for today; porridge, some salted fish, miso soup, and green tea. Nothing grand unlike the usual, a typical ration for a person who has taken to the bed, Kuroko realizes, but he's thankful for them all the same. Not wanting to disappoint the blonde, he picks up his chopsticks and pokes into the dishes, mumbling a humble, "Thank you for the food."

Kise doesn't reply to that, but he drags a chair from the nearby study and observes Kuroko attentively. "Kuroko-sama, you really don't look well," he begins his usual preaching, but this time on a more sombre note. "Maybe you really need to see a doctor. I'll just call the palace physician to get you some medicine? If you get sick and the whole palace finds out, you're not going to be the only one in trouble, you know."

Between mouthfuls of porridge, Kuroko shakes his head. He doesn't need a doctor; the emperor does. 

"I know that you're probably going to get mad at me if I call the doctors in anyway." The man scratches his nape, a pained flicker passing through his eyes. "If you don't try to get better soon on your own, this will definitely drag you down. Who knows, it might affect the quality of the children that you're going to produce." At this, Kuroko makes a face and Kise chuckles, shaking his head amusedly. "There's a story I heard from one of the old maids serving Akashicchi, about a concubine who never got any better because she was too absorbed in her own misery. Do you want to hear it, Kuroko-sama?"

"If Kise-san is trying to make me feel guilty, go ahead," Kuroko says, lowering his chin. 

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, Kuroko-sama, it's just my job to look after you," Kise weakly protests, but the teen knows he's right from the way the blonde's tail becomes rigid from its position behind him. "It's not a good story either because it has a tragic ending... ahem, let me rephrase that. Let's just say that too much of her grief made the reigning Grand Empress irritated during that time because she doesn't even try to live anymore, so an order was made for her limbs to be separated from her body."

The concubine almost drops his chopsticks, but he manages a steady face and apathetically listens despite the protests of his heart.

"What happens in the end is really tragic, Kuroko-sama," the wolf says, but in Kuroko's honest opinion, everything in the imperial grounds is tragic to begin with. "After the guards caught her and cut off her arms and legs, doctors came to patch her up so that she won't die. Her rank was demoted and she's sent away to the palace near the Round Garden—that's really far away from here, if you don't know. The one sent along to take care of her is the man who was in charge of the entire concubines in general, the Minister of Internal Royal Affairs, or the MIRA for short." Then he shrugs, looking powdery pale for some reasons. "I've heard rumours that she's still alive until today, but you know, they're just rumours."

At the ending of the story, Kuroko looks away and chews on his bottom lip. "Rumours are there for a reason." Just like how he's seen the charred remains of an omega this morning, and the thought gnaws away on his sanity.

"And I'd rather not have you start the next beheading, if you know what I mean. If you keep refusing medical treatment, you're going to get sicker and sicker and I don't want that," Kise whines, curling his lips into an unbecoming pout. It's not supposed to look cute on an adult alpha male, but with how his ears are lowered down and his tail tapping restlessly by his side, he definitely pulls off the look. "Come on, Kuroko-sama... You should really see one. Or at least," he contemplates, "Get some full rest today. You didn't get enough sleep, remember?"

Enough sleep? 

Kuroko perks up and swallows down the porridge and fish, tasting the lingering saltiness on his tongue. "I slept well, Kise-san. I've already rested this morning."

But Kise's eyes are boring holes into him, and his smile is painfully static. 

"What're you talking about, Kuroko-sama? We took a morning walk together earlier, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#6:** _"Sorry, Kuroko-sama," he says, and all traces of the foolishly indulgent man is gone. He stands there, cold and domineering, with a practiced expression of refrain. "Midorimacchi sent me a mail. You've been hereby summoned by His Majesty Akashi Seijuro, the 104th Emperor of Japan, to accompany him this afternoon. Please finish your meal as we need to prepare you for your summoning as soon as possible."_


	6. baby i'm a bad boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh tomorrow i'm going to be quite free in the evenings, so i'm contemplating the possibility of _uploading a new chapter tomorrow itself_. would you guys like that? (｡´∀｀)ﾉ because there's a huge possibility that i'm going to be really busy for a week or two (considering that final assignments and finals are approaching) so... let me know? (〜￣▽￣)〜  
>  _and also all you readers are sweet bbys_ ;u; i am really touched at the sweet comments and amount of kudos you guys left for me. thank you for putting up with my confusing plot and slow updates! (─‿─) and one more thing before i leave for the night, i tend to babble about future updates on my tumblr (the sidebar has a link that says **Writing Updates** ) so yeah it pretty much says it all right there.  
> 

Kuroko learns that fear is a strong emotion.

"We had that walk together. You walked in front—I walked on the roofs and the high walls. Well, I don't know if it's called a walk together if it's put like that," Kise laughs, a cloying smile so caustic on his face. "But it would've helped if you told me earlier that you wanted to go for an early morning stroll! Trying to leave me behind—that's so mean of you, Kuroko-sama…"

It's painfully uncomfortable to hear the blonde go on and on about it as if he was invited all along. Doesn't he realize how creepy that sounded like? Keeping a straight face, Kuroko takes a sip from his miso soup and tucks his chopsticks away on the tray. "How did you find me?"

"I'm already familiar with your scent," he says as-a-matter-of-factly. "It was kind of hard for me at first because you didn't smell like anything at all, Kuroko-sama, but I trained myself to try and pick up as much as I can. Sometimes when the maids do your laundry, I ask them for one of your robes so that—"

Kuroko gets the notion that he doesn't really want to know, so he clears his throat and asks the next question. "So if you were really following me around, Kise-san, then why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't really know what you wanted, so I thought you should be left alone or something like that! You know, just giving you some space?"

Kuroko doesn't buy that excuse as easily as others would. It's frightening how Kise looks at him, doe-eyed and guiltless when he offered that explanation without a single hitch. So the boy averts his eyes and fascinates himself with how the soup swirls inside the little ceramic bowl. "Were you thinking of calling the guards on me if I went too far outside my pavilion then, Kise-san?"

"Of course not!" he cries out in protest, shaking his head. Kuroko is used to seeing how the man lowers his ears and tails like a meek dog seeking for an apology, but he's starting to wonder if it's all just a farce in the end. Kise is good in acting, after all. "I... I was with you because I'm really worried about you, Kuroko-sama," he justifies. "You haven't been smiling, you haven't been eating, you haven't been sleeping... I'm just scared that you were going to kill yourself like how other concubines did."

"You really didn't think that I was trying to escape?" Kuroko presses on, unconvinced.

Now the blonde looks mystified, as if he's never contemplated that possibility before in his entire life and career. "Why would you? You couldn't go that far since you don't know the palace." Then he shrugs, looking perfectly nonchalant for some reasons. "Well, even if you did try to run away, you won't make it. It's a long road to get out from here, so we're bound to find you sooner or later. There're cameras everywhere, don't you know?"

How insulting his words are. Kuroko knows that he stands little to no chance at escape, but to have someone look down on his efforts—unconsciously, Kuroko's fingers curl in and his nails bite into his palms as he glares at the man. 

"Please don't make that scary face," Kise pleads, pouting. "You don't look cute like that, Kuroko-sama..."

"I'm not supposed to be cute when I'm angry," says Kuroko, and his brows knit together when Kise howls, "But you're always cute _every_ day!" 

It's exasperating to talk to someone like him, the teen thinks, so he picks up a spoon and begins to dig into his porridge again. Silence is the best treatment for the noisy ones but apparently, it doesn't apply to Kise at all. The full-fledged adult man doesn't hesitate to perch on the edge of Kuroko's bed now, words blubbering nonstop from his lips, and a migraine will bloom in Kuroko's head if he doesn't stop anytime soon. 

"Oh come on," the blonde whines tenaciously, little tears prickling the corners of his eyes while his fingers dig into the downy comforter. "I want you to be safe with a smile here! Honestly, I'm a bit hurt that you went out like that," he sniffles into the sleeve of his blazer, "because I want to make your stay fun. If you're not happy, then I'm not happy too."

"I appreciate your efforts, Kise-san, but I can't ever find happiness here." Kuroko averts his eyes and tears his gaze away from the sight of the sulking man. The sun is shining bright enough now, lighting his garden with a vibrant glow, but he doesn't find pleasure in admiring the humungous flowering trees anymore. His voice is flat when he says, "I'm not allowed to have a normal life. You said phones and computers are forbidden for the concubines once they enter servitude, am I right?" At Kise's nod, he continues. "The emperor took away my family and my freedom for his own desire. I'm not supposed to know about the outside world because I might want to go back there, and he doesn't want that. So I don't want to give in to him. He's cruel and selfish."

"Selfish?" Kise echoes in wonder, and it doesn't escape Kuroko's attention that he doesn't comment on the cruel acts. Crossing his arms over his chest, the blonde hums. "I don't think Akashicchi is selfish, you know. Look at it this way, he sacrifices his everything for the country's growth, and he's expected to have kids—and even grandkids at his age! Isn't it tragic? He can't fall in love or even have a relationship like a normal person. Don't you understand how hard it is to be a ruler at such a young age? Akashicchi's officially crowned as the emperor when he's just twelve. Just twelve-years-old, Kuroko-sama," Kise huffs and shakes his head. "When I was twelve, my sis tried to put me up for cross-dressing. What were you doing when you were twelve, Kuroko-sama? Definitely something kiddish too, right?'

'It doesn't have anything to do with me' is what Kuroko wants to retort, but he swallows his words and screws his eyes shut tightly. Because then he, too, will be the same as the man he despises. Selfish. Caring only about himself and his own needs. He hates how soft his heart is, how he seems to slip into sympathy at even the slightest amount of persuasion, especially when Kise phrases his words like that. They both carry the same burden, ones without freedom, but who's the real victim here in the end? 

How does he say it doesn't justify how cruel Akashi is, and his actions are inexcusable? 

A single beep resonates in the tense silence of Kuroko's bedroom, interrupting his thoughts, and he watches dourly when Kise withdraws his phone from the breast pocket of his blazer while mumbling, "Sorry, excuse me for a second." His liquid gold eyes have a little twinkle in them when he checks the screen and one of his fingers swipe through the contents, but it's a fleeting happiness. Thick lashes then gradually lower themselves until all lights disappear from his eyes, and what's left of a cheerful, grinning wolf is a sullen murderer with a hard edge lining his jaw. His ears twitch and his tail has a rhythmic tap to it, almost deceiving in its own way, but Kuroko knows what it signals. 

That Kise is ready to pounce on whatever that's ticking him off.

"Sorry, Kuroko-sama," he says, and all traces of the foolishly indulgent man is gone. He stands there, cold and domineering, with a practiced expression of refrain. "Midorimacchi sent me a mail. You've been hereby summoned by His Majesty Akashi Seijuro, the 104th Emperor of Japan, to accompany him this afternoon. Please finish your meal as we need to prepare you for your summoning as soon as possible."

Kuroko chokes and he drops his spoon.

* * *

Everything's a mess of hazy memories as the handmaidens pour into his bedroom and wrestles him away from the sheets, taking away the trays and hurriedly calling out to one another. He drowns in the sea of cottons, hair and twitching tails when they leap into action, hushed urges to hurry one another, and in the distance, Kise waves them off with a sombre look as he's talking on the phone, muttering things under his breath. Kuroko can't stop the shiver of his heart and the clammy palms that follow by when they strip him of his clothes along the way to the bathroom, almost carrying him by the shoulder to hurry his steps, and they unceremoniously dump him into the tub before blasting on the tap. 

It's crazy how females can be when they're pressed for time, Kuroko thinks, as they don't hesitate to run their hands everywhere on his body—even bordering on violating his physical rights. They get multiple loofahs of myriad colours and begin scrubbing every inch of his skin, rubbing it raw, and Kuroko groans softly under the intense feeling. Modesty isn't really their forte either and he catches one woman parting his thighs with broad hands and running a washcloth over his privates, even daring enough to let her hand travel downwards and circle around his hole. He flails around, trying to struggle from their claws, but to no avail as they continued holding him down and hell bent on making him squeaky clean. 

"Come on, Kuroko-sama, work together with us!" an exasperated beta squeaks, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm when she washes his hair and douses him with water. Her cat tail doubles as an extension of herself as it curls around a soap and places it away on the racks. "If His Majesty summons you, that means he's expecting sex!"

"Having sex in the afternoon is so sexy," another croons, and Kuroko flushes when they titter in excitement behind him. 

Having an intercourse is the last thing that he wants because the emperor's dangerously unstable, but they don't let him get a moment's rest as they rinsed him off and dragged him to the towels. Hairdryers blast from each and every direction, hands slathering his hair with serum, and he feels oh so very suffocated with how fast the situation's progressing. He sees the jewellery boxes taken out from a silver trolley and some girls flit over to pop the lids open, revealing thin chandelier necklaces, exquisite diamond rings, prised opaline anklets, and even feathered earrings. They dissected him like how a doctor would to a cadaver, holding up pieces to imagine him with them, whilst the royal dressers rush to wrap pale robes around his body. 

"Hurry up, the car will be here in forty minutes!" he hears Kise calling out in exasperation, and shrieks of horror almost deafened him when the maidens panicked. 

Getting thrown around, Kuroko vaguely remembers a girl whispering 'push out' for some reasons, and another girl lifting his arms to slip the final layer of his robes on him and adjusting the wrappings. Forgetting to breathe when they smudged his face with strange powders and some rainbow-coloured balls—"Guerlain's Meteorites looks so damn good on him," the enthusiastic makeup artist gushes, and a choir of agreement backs her up—and Kuroko feels like a drained battery for some reasons. The gravity of the situation hasn't fully descended on him yet, but it'll slap him on the face sooner or later, he reasons. For now, enduring the constant harassment comes first.

With a few tugs on his hair and some clipping sounds, they push him out of the bathroom and drag him over to the dressing room, propping him to stand in front of a medley of mirrors. 

And Kuroko almost collapses in disbelief. 

Resplendent pink robes, layered with drapes of white, cascade from his body like a rose fountain and he can't help but to whirl around from side to side to gaze at the hundreds of butterflies hand-embroidered into the fabric. Kuroko's accustomed to wearing luxurious kimonos and robes that others would have a fit to own, but today's touch is strikingly diverse from the many images that they wanted him to portray. Makeup that they usually had no qualms about making his face their artistic canvas has significantly diminished, leaving only natural flushed cheeks and tinted lips. His wrists and neck are left devoid of jewelleries and while he's thankful for it, he finds it a bit disconcerting to find that the amount of anklets chaining his legs has multiplied. Silvery ringing resonates in the room when he moves, and it's tragic to say that he doesn't find it favourable to his odds at all. What with his hair neatly pinned together by a string of pearls and fat white chrysanthemums, Kuroko finds that this sort of image is beguiling and provocatively coy. 

"I think some of your developing omega traits are setting in well," a deep voice comments, and Kuroko turns around sharply.

Just in time, Kise strides in with his hands clasped behind his back and the servants bow to him as he stands behind the teen. Eyes glazed with an unnamed fervour, Kuroko thinks that it's almost scary how different the jovial Kise he's used to seeing and this Kise, who's all business and de rigeur. But the blonde doesn't take notice of Kuroko's wary expression, and appears inordinately pleased at what he sees in the mirror. "This looks really beautiful on you, Kuroko-sama," he comments, clapping his hands together. "I'm sure Akashicchi will love you." 

The teen blinks, like he's been tasered. "What?" 

Did he hear that wrongly? 

But Kise openly ignores him and motions for the rest of the wan-faced girls to leave them alone, and they submitted to his orders with a curtsy and closing the door as soon as they finished exiting. Once satisfied, the wolf turns to look at him, but his smile just quite doesn't reach his eyes. It makes Kuroko's stomach churn and unsettled, so he keeps being on his guard and stands his ground without backing away. If Kise dares to think that he can pervade into his life at any time he wishes to, then Kuroko wants to prove that he's wrong. Perhaps this is a good starting point.

"Now then, we still have a few more minutes before the car gets here," Kise says, and he daringly steps forward, invading Kuroko's personal space. His tail swishes knowingly beside him and fine furs brushed against the pale teen's fingers, making him jerk backwards and bite into his lower lip to stifle any sounds of surprise. It doesn't escape the wolf—his ears twitch and he _knows_ , but Kise retains the same distant expression and takes another step forward. 

And this time, Kuroko backs away. "Please stand a bit further, Kise-san," he warns coolly, keeping his eyes trained on the blonde. "You're making me uncomfortable."

But it's beyond reasoning now as all words fall on deaf ears. Kise openly breaches his comfort zone and guides the boy backwards until the back of Kuroko's knees hit a chair and he collapses into the seat. The crystal chandelier lights shine down too brightly, the revolting perfume he's wearing and Kise's pungent cologne are intermingling, the air is too intoxicating—he's helplessly lightheaded, and the man looks down on him with an unspoken intention tainting his eyes.

Then Kise's smile abruptly shifts into a smirk as he bends in half, coming face-to-face with Kuroko.

"Hey, Kuroko-sama," he purrs, "let's talk about sex."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#7:** _"You look like you got sent to your death sentence, Tetsu," he says, and snickers under his breath when the pale teen shakily grazes his fingers against his callused palm. "Fuck, you're cold—hey, come on, warm up a little," Aomine winces and rubs his own fingers over the back of Kuroko's hand when he helps him out. "No need to be scared. If Akashi's being a big jerk, just kick him in the balls and run. I'll stand out here to drive you out. Then we can laugh about it together."_
> 
> btw i am very gomen about this chapter. i think i really cockblocked the ones who are anticipating akashi. i am ready to be stoned to death now. /bows


	7. can't turn back, can't turn around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really floored by the sheer amount of comments and kudos i've received until i'm like _whoaaaaa_ , really, thank you thank you thank you. it's like 11.05 p.m. right now (i know i promised evening but i ended up getting home later than i should have ugh), and i have class tomorrow and i am a weak pansy because i get really tired when i sleep late so i'm just gonna leave this chapter here and respond to everyone's comments tomorrow? also, i haven't reread through this chapter, so if you spot any mistakes, all of my gomens go to you. /bows
> 
> also. just asking, **how many of you guys would like to read a new chapter on wednesday**? i've got classes until 12.30 p.m. (GMT +8 over here) so i should be pretty free in the evening to upload a new one? (*＾▽＾)／ i shall let you guys decide if you'd like an update on wednesday or on saturday. (and also there's a reason why i'm particularly excited for _this_ update...)
> 
> also _also_ , if you guys are wondering what happened to kise's little question in the previous chapter... you might as well jump to the ending notes to see a hint of what happened. (⌒▽⌒)☆ i know, i write without proper arrangements.

There's a man driving at the front, Aomine is his name. He's every bit like what Kise has spoken before; a tall, dark, handsome black panther with a devil-may-care smirk perpetually tugging his lips. He speaks much lesser than the blonde, who whines and gripes at every second because he can't come along, and he just doesn't quite trust the other alpha male with Kuroko's safety yet. Aomine unhesitatingly shoots down every request of Kise just to tag along in the car because he doesn't take shit from others, so they leave the wolf behind in a cloud of dust as he sobs into his handkerchief and waves them off like a tragic wife from an afternoon soap opera.

But no matter. Kuroko's safety is his own choice. 

And right now, he trusts Aomine more than he does with Kise. 

"You're—uh, something-something Tetsuya, right?" he calls out from the front and Kuroko jerks out of his stupor. Aomine casts a glance at the rear mirror and chortles at what he sees; presumably, Kuroko's face is stuck in an odd expression even though he's supposed to be surprised, and the man's amused with him. "Your face is so blank—reminds me of this other guy I drove there other day. Grey hair and all, eh," he shrugs, keeping his hands firmly on the steering when he makes a quick turn to the left, "Dunno what's the name though. Anyway, nice to meet you. Name's Aomine Daiki. Aomine is fine, don't add those weird suffixes like that idiot Kise's 'cchi' at the back, or Murasakibara's hella weird 'chin'. Dunno where these guys lost their screws."

The scenery changes from stony high walls to broad fields, where the clear blue skies shine brightly overhead. Even through the dark-tinted windows, Kuroko can still see the fresh green trees lining the road and the meticulously decorated pavements by the roadside, with guards patrolling almost every meter. It's obvious that he's heading deeper and deeper into the heart of the city, from the way Aomine keeps taking the right turns instead of the left ones, and Kuroko faintly shivers when he's finally level-headed enough to consider the gravity of the situation that he's currently in. 

"Oi, kid, you listening?"

"Yes I was listening, I'm sorry," he quickly apologizes, lowering his head. The teen doesn't miss the way Aomine throws his head back when he laughs heartily, and for some strange reasons, he feels even more familiar with this stranger he's just met compared to Kise. "My name is Kuroko Tetsuya, pleased to make your acquaintance, Aomine-san."

"Mmkay, Tetsu it is," he chimes in agreement, already making up a nickname for him. "Anyway, I don't usually do this whole errand shit—not really my kind of thing, but since Kise's usually the one out to get those omegas, I'm just stuck with the small jobs. But now that Midorima's assigned him to you, we got the other guys doing the pick-up jobs instead."

The sceneries pass by in a frenzy of colours when Aomine's foot digs further into the Quattroporte's gas pedal, and Kuroko soon loses his interest when he can't seem to make out any solid detail from the blurry images. So he stares forward petulantly and lets his fingers fiddle around with the peridot gems sewn into the outmost layer of his dress. "I see. But I thought Kise-san mentioned before that he used to do the job together with you?" 

"Well, yeah about that..." Aomine groans, low and deep inside his throat, and Kuroko feels a shiver running down his spine when he detects the underlying thirst in the alpha's voice. "Apparently, I'm too lusty and they're scared that I can't control my hormones if I come near an omega—absolute bullshit, let me tell you that," he rolls his deep blue eyes and snorts. "But yeah, for the time being, I'm serving as Akashi's handy man. Sometimes I drive him around, sometimes I drive his whores around, same thing."

_Whores._

Kuroko's pretty sure that Aomine doesn't mean it; that's the way he is, just rude and blunt, but the word stings him like a tight slap nonetheless. Even though his title is highly regarded as one of the lovers of the emperor, in the end, it's just a fancy term for a whore. Paid in luxuries, trading their bodies. He fashions his expression into an impassive one, just to make sure that he doesn't look affected by it, and forces his lips to move again. "It's still a good job," he says, trying to keep up his end of the conversation. "I'm sure His Majesty appreciates your hard work."

"He does, he does," the panther agrees with a murmur, and he expertly manoeuvres the car around a flowery roundabout, looking utterly bored like he can even drive with his eyes closed. "Akashi's never a rude guy anyway, but he's just creepily polite. When he tells you to do something, it's either you do it or you don't, and if you don't. Let's just not mention that Sawahara guy, the previous Minister of Education. Nobody could find his body to this day, let me tell you that."

Kuroko's not sure how to respond to that, but he can't stop shivering in his seat. Whether from fear or cold, he's not sure. 

Apparently, Aomine notices it and he lets a grin crawl across his lips. "Don't let it get to you, Tetsu," he coaxes, though his long fingers reached out to turn up the temperature inside the car. "Despite what all the rumours say, he's a good guy. His methods are a bit questionable but he can still keep the country running without a hitch, right? When's the last time we had some economic downfall anyway? Eh, can't remember that shit for my life though. Better ask Midorima if you want the answer," he points out.

Kuroko keeps his breathing shallow, in and out, in and out, and opts to nod his head. "I'll bear that in mind."

"That's my guy," he chortles again, and it's hard not to smile because Aomine is so infectious, so Kuroko lets a secret smile remain on his lips. " 'kay, looks like we're here," he speaks up, and the Maserati slowly slides to a halt before parking it right by the curb. "Wait a sec, it's my job to open the door for you, and I'll be damned if you get out before I do."

And Kuroko's smile drops just like that.

His heart hammers in his chest he almost wants to drag his fingers over the windows to re-enact a tormented prisoner, but Aomine's already sliding out of his seat and reaching out to open his door. Dark blue hair glimmer like midnight skies underneath the harsh sunshine; the man stands tall and strong with his unbuttoned dress shirt and dishevelled tie, but he holds out a hand for Kuroko to grab on and grins. 

"You look like you got sent to your death sentence, Tetsu," he says, and snickers under his breath when the pale teen shakily grazes his fingers against his callused palm. "Fuck, you're cold—hey, come on, warm up a little," Aomine winces and rubs his own fingers over the back of Kuroko's hand when he helps him out. "No need to be scared. If Akashi's being a big jerk, just kick him in the balls and run. I'll stand out here to drive you out. Then we can laugh about it together."

Kick him? How does one kick the emperor without getting chopped on the board anyway? Akashi's already as merciless as he is, and he just can't imagine leaving unscathed after crippling the man. He either emerges losing a limb or just doesn't emerge from the outcome at all. But Kuroko just doesn't have the heart to tell Aomine to stop trying so hard to cheer him up when his virginity's about to be lost, so he tries to soothe himself with a tiny nod. "Thank you for your support, Aomine-san. I'm counting on you if it happens."

"Yeah, and if it hurts, just headbutt him—if it's not enjoyable for you, then it's not supposed to be enjoyable for him too," Aomine advises with a cheeky grin this time. "Sounds fair, right?"

Ludicrous ideas, yes, but it relieves some ache in Kuroko's stomach. "Right."

It's nice, being able to stand around under the sun like this together with him and soaking up the warmth, but there's a time and place for everything. Now is definitely not it. Kuroko regrets that he hadn't met with Aomine before, and if only Aomine's the one who picked him up instead, but that's just how Fate decides to play Her cards. Kuroko merely holds the man's hand tightly, needing the physical support and comfort, and together, the two of them slowly walk towards the destination. 

Akashi's own settlement is incredibly large because it's integrated with joining halls and corridors leading to the court where he receives his guests and ministers. A flowing stream stretches in the distance with multiple wooden bridges crossing over it, and Kuroko follows the trail with his eyes in amazement until reaching the building they're steadily approaching. The waters completely disappear underneath the structure before surfacing again on the other side, heading out of the emperor's palace, making Kuroko wonder where it leads off to. The glazed tiered roofs and scarlet walls of the palace have trees laden with yellow flowers curtaining them, swaying in the wind like odd-coloured wisterias, and everywhere he looks, the green grasses have been sprinkled by little blossoms of the dangling golden chains. 

He feels like he's swallowed by a painting of an Asian depiction of Alice in Wonderland, if there's anything to describe what he sees. 

"Hey look, Midorima's already waiting for us," Aomine says, and he's right. Underneath the natural golden roof of flowers, a mop of green hair looks very much misplaced in the scenery, save for the gaudy flowing robes that he adorns, which have symbols of good fortune embroidered all over them. "Ugh, those robes need to be burnt in Hell," Aomine recoils in disgust, and Kuroko's almost inclined to agree. 

Upon closer inspection, this Midorima person looks like a man in his early twenties, wafting a temperate alpha scent albeit hiding his animal traits. With full lashes and curvy, sullen lips, he's almost like a typical character from a shojo manga about a bespectacled beauty, Kuroko thinks, but he better not voice it up. 

"You're late—is what I want to say," the man, Midorima, growls in displeasure once they get close enough to hear what he has to say. "But His Eminence hasn't returned from his meeting yet, so you're spared for now." Then, Midorima's calculative eyes slid down Kuroko's body as though he's undressing him mentally, and harrumphs. "The new concubine doesn't look too shabby, I suppose."

"Really? I think he's cuter than the one I sent in yesterday," Aomine comments as though he's making notes on the weather, and Kuroko has to swallow to remember that he'd have to get used to the word 'cute' since his omega traits are in development. "Give the kid some credit. Not all guys can pull off pink like him. Anyway, let's get inside; can't let Akashi's new bride sweat it out here like us. Akashi can't fuck him if he stinks."

Midorima chokes and turns a fascinating shade of red—closer to magenta, really, but it's almost like a gradient now. Though it's not as worrying as how he's petrified, becoming a stone ornament in the middle of the way. Aomine merely smacks him on the shoulder in one hand and holds Kuroko closer in the other, all the while grinning. "Still a prude when it comes to the adult talk, what a baby. C'mon Tetsu, let's go."

"But what about him?" Kuroko asks, looking up at the panther with wide eyes. It's not every day that he sees someone turning into stone, and he doesn't want to be held responsible for this. "Should we leave him behind?"

To his credit, Aomine does give Midorima a second look, but he shrugs and tugs Kuroko onwards. "He'll live. Besides, he's got his boy toy, Takao. That guy will find him sooner or later."

They step past the saluting guards to enter the foyer and a gust of cold air hits Kuroko's face, making him reel backwards in surprise. And everywhere he sees, it's a sea of red. The bold colour assaults him from every corner, from the giant carved pillars that are much bigger than what people like Aomine can hug, to the overhead dragon curvature beams that support an unconventional stained glass roof depicting a coiling dragon. A few servants are scattered here and there, carrying what seems to be files and jugs of water, and there are many doors leading out to various corridors, enticing the curiosity in him to open each and every one of them to discover their concealed secrets. 

Kuroko totters alongside Aomine, who then tugs on his sleeve, amused at the boy's disorientation. "Oi, Tetsu. Look down." 

And he does. 

The floor is the same white marble that Kuroko's used to, but there's a catch. A diagonal strip slashes across the marble, revealing the same flowing stream he has seen outside earlier, only separated from them by a dense diamond panel that refracts light and it fills the room with vivid glimmers of light from the stained glass roof above. Kuroko could've collapsed right there and then if it's not for the fact that Aomine's holding his hand, now barking with laughter at how easily he's staggered at some of the luxuries contained inside Akashi's palace. And to think that this is only a fraction of it—Kuroko feels that his hair will turn grey by the time he's seen everything that the imperial grounds has to offer. 

"After seeing this a bunch of times, you'll get used to it," is what Aomine simply snorts, and takes him to the furthest door across the great stretch of a hall. 

Together, they enter a series of open-air hallways where they cross over the grounds underneath the same shower of golden petals, and Kuroko's dainty cloth sandals scrape along the stone tiles. His vision's fuzzy now, everything's dotted with yellows, swirling around both him and Aomine as the panther leads him from the front, still keeping Kuroko's hand in his. Everything's so surreal, a mesmeric place that slowly crushes him, and the suffocation takes him by the throat. Rhythmic jingles of his anklets fill the air with a broken melody, and with each meter that they cover, his heart caves in like a dented box. 

He doesn't want to go, he wants to tear his eyes away from Aomine's broad back as they travel, but it's futile. 

Aomine isn't hesitant to approach a pair of double doors that part in the middle, and Kuroko doesn't need to look to know that he's reached his terminus. Just from the strong build of the mahogany wood and toothpick fine carvings of swirling clouds, he can tell that it's where he needs to be. The man throws the doors open, marching inside with a shuddering Kuroko in tow, and deposits him on one of the chairs near an opened window. "Figured that you probably need the fresh air," Aomine says offhandedly, and the boy's grateful for his consideration. 

It's a decent place; a study, Kuroko realizes after a moment's fretting. A completely unacceptable place for having an intercourse, but judging from Akashi's odd preferences, Kuroko can't say that the emperor is above exhibitionism. For all he knows, the so-called 'His Majesty' might as well be a kinky pervert. 

Nevertheless, he's got good taste in his interior decoration choices. All of the windows are open to let in strong currents of air, and behind a sturdy desk inlaid with pearls, wall-sized bookshelves line the back row. Thick leather-bound volumes of things that Kuroko doesn't understand about sit on those shelves, and he spots a few incense burners located strategically on the working table, alongside several vases that hold fresh bunches of magnolias. The sweet aroma reminds Kuroko of home, a nostalgic scent that stirs his memories, but everything's just so polished that he can't digest how this can be the place of the man who slays others on a daily basis. 

Are sociopaths always this sophisticated to begin with?

It's only then that Aomine releases his hold on Kuroko's hand, and the coldness that suddenly envelops him is unsettling.

"Sorry, Tetsu," he rubs his nape with an apologetic grimace, all the while inching backwards. "I can't stay here unless you probably wanna see me get shot on the execution grounds. I'd rather live to see you another day, you know?"

No, Kuroko almost wants to reach his hand out and keep him there, but Aomine's getting further and further out of reach and he forbears himself from doing it. He doesn't want anyone to die on his account because of his selfishness. Aomine's good. He should live. He should live to take him away from here when they're done. He can't be the victim in Kuroko's affairs just because everything—just _everything_ is so frustrating. 

So Kuroko holds his chin parallel to the ground and nods stately, the perfect counterfeit of a dignified captive. "I understand. It was short but thank you for taking good care of me, Aomine-san."

Aomine cheekily salutes him before leaving, closing the doors behind him, and the last thing that Kuroko sees is a blur as wet warmth pools in his eyes.

There is no hiding anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#8:** _"Do you know where his fingers should be then?" Kise inquires in fake curiosity, perhaps just enjoying the fact that he can try to get a rise out of harassing Kuroko. His fingers sidle up the padded armrests of the chair and the courtesan watches him warily, but the wolf still hasn't touched him. Yet. "I mean, I don't want your first time to be painful, so maybe you can get Akashicchi to prepare you with plenty of lube and fingers before—that is," he doesn't bother to hide the impish grin crawling along, "if Akashicchi feels like taking pity on you. Most of the time, he likes watching his lovers scream. Or muffle their cries with his hand."_


	8. i sang a spell on you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> おまたせしました！i know it's been a while, i was sort of queueing up things on tumblr and brushing up on my assignments, and so here you go? so who wants to guess what happens in the next chapter? and when the next update will be?

_"Please get away from me, Kise-san. I'll be forced to call the guards if you don’t."_

_The wolf chuckles as if those words don't affect him. "No need to be so scary, Kuroko-sama," he says, the very same disconcerting smile still on his lips. "All I just want is to educate you about having sex—and considering that this is Akashicchi we're talking about, I don't think he'll be very kind to you, even if it's your first time."_

_Kuroko's stomach does a pathetic flop at Kise's incriminating words just as irritation begins to bubble inside his heart. Despite being an ordinary high school student before his inheritance, he's aware of what takes place during a sexual intercourse—it's the talk of all the horny alphas inside his classroom, and those reticent betas even take an interest in filthy magazines. Overhearing something like that is inevitable, just because he's so very absent in people's eyes until they think they're alone when they whip out their pornographic stash. It's sad to say that he knows more than what an average teenage boy should know anyway._

_"I know what happens during sex—I won't need any additional explanations," the pale teen rebukes with little enthusiasm, pressing his lips into a thin, grim line. "So if you'll please take a few steps away from me—"_

_"Do you know where his fingers should be then?" Kise inquires in fake curiosity, perhaps just enjoying the fact that he can try to get a rise out of harassing Kuroko. His fingers sidle up the padded armrests of the chair and the courtesan watches him warily, but the wolf still hasn't touched him. Yet. "I mean, I don't want your first time to be painful, so maybe you can get Akashicchi to prepare you with plenty of lube and fingers before—that is," he doesn't bother to hide the impish grin crawling along, "If Akashicchi feels like taking pity on you. Most of the time, he likes watching his lovers scream. Or muffle their cries with his hand."_

_Ah._

_That's pleasantly disturbing._

_As expected from the unholy emperor of the empire, who dictates everyone with a gloriously upright façade, but hosts rotting innards inside his body instead. Kuroko can't even begin to imagine the pain the previous concubines had to be subjected through—especially the ones who've died, but he knows that he might be one of them with this summoning. All the omegas, every single one of them who was taken away from his or her family by force, he wonders if their parents cried as hard as his did. And if they find out that their children's dead just because of an emperor's foolish whim, Kuroko screws his eyes shut and tries hard not to think about their anguished expressions._

_"Hey, Kuroko-sama," Kise's voice nuzzles him like how its owner could've done, if he wasn't bound to Akashi's words. "Don't tell me you're thinking about where his fingers could be, hmm? That's so lewd, right in front of me…"_

_Kuroko hides the shiver that wracks down his body as best as he could, trying not to let it show. He can't appear weak, just like what Kise wants him to be. Sooner or later, this place will break him—Kise will break him, Akashi will break him, his life will **break** him… unless he breaks someone else and gains a standing in everyone's eyes. Masking his discomfort with the staple impassive face, Kuroko feigns disinterest. _

_"Kise-san, you're annoying," he blankly states, and wills himself to look at the blonde right in the eyes. Kuroko doesn't break the eye contact, and neither does he, because predators will pounce on their preys once a staring contest is broken. So Kuroko moves his lips and hopes that Kise will take a hint, never blinking. Not even once. "Will you please stop being cynical? I'll go and file for a change in bodyguards if you're going to keep this up."_

_It doesn't hurt to brandish some authority in Kise's face just to pop him out of that high chair he's been sitting on, but Kuroko's a tad bit disappointed to see that the wolf doesn't even take the bait. He just raises his slender brow and looks skeptical, that's all._

_"How sure are you that I'm being cynical, Kuroko-sama?" the blonde retaliates, leaning back just to observe Kuroko from a wider angle. "We've only met for just a while, so you don't know me fully."_

_At least it gives the concubine some space to breathe and he's glad for it, but Kise isn't very pleased as the very same weariness that has been corroding him from the start… is gradually eating him up from within. Kuroko knows, he can see Kise's thinning irises and it says plenty more than what the owner of the body conveys. This place brings down others; it revels and feasts on their despairs and for someone like the wolf to be in here longer than Kuroko himself, he must've been obscuring some of his demented flaws behind that magazine idol fascia of his._

_"Maybe you're good at pretending, Kise-san," Kuroko starts, putting his hands together on his lap and gazing at the older man quietly. "You're right though—it's only been a several weeks since we've met each other, and it's none of my business. But still," he pauses, frowning slightly, "I prefer the happy and helpful Kise-san compared to this."_

_He doesn't know if he's caught the man off guard, but his words leave Kise with a mystified look. His bright yellow eyes are wide, lips parted, his voice stuck in his throat, but nothing comes up. Reasonably at a loss for words, it seems. So Kuroko takes this chance to get up from his chair and Kise involuntarily steps back, his mouth dry. Adjusting the hems of his robes and flicking the fat tassels from the dangling flowers away from his face, the concubine gathers his sleeves together and gives a lingering glance at the man._

_"I'll take my leave then, Kise-san, if you have nothing else important to say."_

_He begins to walk away, just past the blonde, but a hand darts out and grips his shoulder tightly._

_"Wait, Kuroko-sama—"_

Kuroko slides out of his dream languorously, like he's slipping from between silken sheets and pressing his cheek against a balmy pillow. Trying to suppress the memories proved hopeless, as his mind has a strange way of letting him replay those moments unbidden, and he's not able to stop them at will. As much as he resents how Kise treats him like a plaything, he's aware that his whole life revolves around how Kise manipulates him against his free will. Whether he likes it or not, this harsh reality is part of his lifestyle now, and the only salvation lies in the hands of the wolf himself.

Then Kuroko vaguely realizes that the strong smell of incense fills his head with smoky whispers of an unfamiliar room, and blinks the sleep away from his eyes... only to see a wall of brocade red in front of him. 

And someone's palm is cradling his cheek. 

"You dare to sleep in the presence of the emperor himself?"

* * *

Sixteen-year-old Kuroko Tetsuya has never really taken interest in the political affairs of Japan, but he can work things out with history classes in his school. What he knows about the Akashi family isn't really surprising, since any typical Japanese would be able to vomit out the same information as he can. Highly influential, strong alpha lineage, and devastatingly powerful enough to crush any of their enemies is one of the first things that he learned about them. Crimson hair, alabaster skin, slanted eyes and a sharp tongue is the next set of description he's heard before; Kuroko once tried to draw it out, but he makes those prized features look as though they belong on the next serial killer on the midnight television slot. He hasn't attempted to draw anything ever since then.

But in reality, it's different. 

The man sits in front of him, dispassionate, though his face isn't exactly arranged into one of a scowl. Even though his fair complexion glows radiantly under the sunlight and he has an upturned nose that's rather adorable if it doesn't belong to an emperor of a country, Kuroko wonders why his thin lips are fashioned into a flat line of disdain. Over his statuesque build, the emperor adorns simple yet flattering monochromatic robes made with various cuts that flow from his sides and the front, which highlighted his lithe physique. Albeit keeping his animalistic traits hidden with no traces of feathery wings or even a sleek tail, the strong scent of a domineering alpha wafts from him, mixing with the aromatic incense, and it renders Kuroko lightheaded from all the intoxicating musk.

And his eyes. 

On one side, it's the colour of livers smudged against the asphalt. The other side hosts a much brighter colour—eerie moonlight offset by heavy lashes, and every inch of Kuroko's skin crawls from his intense gaze. They weigh so heavily on the teen until he feels as though he's meticulously torn apart inside the man's head, only to be pieced together again once he's achieved understanding of how Kuroko functions. While crimson bangs do curtain his vision slightly, it does nothing to ease the dreadfully daunting look that he gives to anyone in his presence. 

"Your name is Kuroko Tetsuya," the emperor says, and there's an appreciative lilt in the way he rolls his tongue to pronounce Kuroko's name. "The newest one, I take it?"

It's hard for the boy not to respond, but Kuroko's mouth is dry so he nods instead. 

"I appreciate it if you'll respond vocally instead, Tetsuya," he sharply reprimands, and it takes all of Kuroko's control not to wilt right there and then. Aomine's right; the emperor is a fetching man who is authoritative and dignified, but his words cut through just as sharp as a paper would. "If you are not aware to whom you're talking to, would you prefer my assistance in reminding you?"

Warning bells start to ring inside Kuroko's head amidst the fogginess.

A punishment. 

"No," he starts, almost a breathy gasp, but he tries to regain his composure and clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, Akashi Seijūrō-sama." 

There's the semblance of satisfaction flitting through Akashi's dichromatic eyes and he tilts his head to the side, almost coy, but there's something direly unsettling about it. Because this 'coyness' isn't like Kise's coquette, rather, more like a tiger taming itself just to bare its fangs afterwards. 

"Good boy," he says, and a lazy smile curls on his lips. "I will not have one of my court members forgetting his place in my presence. The consequences would've been tragic."

Very tragic, Kuroko thinks, but he doesn't dare to say it aloud. So he settles for watching one servant boy come forward, a teapot in hand, and sets about his task refilling several teacups sitting on the table between them. Amidst the gilded edges of fine porcelains, bunches of flowers in vases, little tidbits of sweetmeats and delicacies are ready for consumption. But Kuroko finds little interest in those sugared cakes, partly because he's so jittery until he can't take any food. When the servant boy bows and leaves them both alone, that's when Akashi elegantly lifts his teacup and makes a gesture for him to do the same. 

"Take a sip, Tetsuya. It'll do you some good."

"No thank you, Your Majesty," Kuroko replies, shaking his head curtly. His fingers are trembling and he's rather sure that he might spill his drink if he does. "I'd very much like for us to get straight to the point, if possible." 

One of Akashi's brows rose, feigning ignorance. "Oh? That is?" 

"You summoned me," the concubine tries again, brows furrowing. "Kise-san mentioned that you wanted an afternoon company."

The redhead is unperturbed with how Kuroko questions him point blank.

"And this isn't what you expected?" Akashi inquires with a tilt of his head, but his eyes glow with amusement. "I suppose the first thing that came to your mind when the word 'summon' is mentioned is none other than sex? If so," he chuckles, taking a sip of his tea and firmly setting his cup on the saucer, "then you are a complete disappointment. Every single one of you is the same. I suppose it justifies how I can smell Daiki's scent on your hand and Ryota's on your shoulder. You've been _misbehaving_ with them behind my back, haven't you?"

That's ridiculous.

"I beg to differ." Kuroko's as quick as ever to shoot back, and he somehow regrets not holding his tongue when Akashi narrows his eyes at his impertinence. "I didn't look forward to meeting you, since I wanted to spend my day in bed with a good book, if possible. But when Kise-san said that I was summoned, everyone went into a frenzy and they got me prepared. According to them, getting summoned equals to having sexual intercourse. In short, that is how I was lead to believe that it was what you wanted. Both Kise-san and Aomine-san only held me to ensure that I don't trip because of my nervousness."

If anything, Akashi's silence is terrifying at his defensive explanation. The wind rustles and Kuroko hears the branches rustling outside the windows, and he's almost tempted to rise from the chair to avoid this stifling atmosphere. But walking away from the emperor himself is a huge no-no, and he likes having his head attached to his body. With little to no choice left in his cards, Kuroko spends the next few minutes watching as the redhead maintains the silence placidly, taking measured sips from his cup, settling his eyes on Kuroko, and after the third minute ticks by, the man smiles. 

"What you're saying is that you're not here of your own free will?" he asks, to which Kuroko tersely nods. He takes the boy's answer with a thoughtful look and settles his gaze over Kuroko's shoulder. "I didn't summon you; Shintarou did so under my name. He thinks it's best for me to go through my mates in case I might find one that suits my whims. Personally, I think it's a waste of time since I have to make space in my schedule just to allocate something as insignificant as this. I always make it a point to decline whenever possible, but Shintarou insists on having you over because he assigned Ryota to take care of you."

Kuroko isn't sure how to respond to that as his mind is reeling backwards. There is no sex involved? The emperor does not wish for his presence here? He won't end up as a real-life tragedy, just like those omegas? "Then I'm just here because of some elaborate miscommunication?" 

"You have nobody else to blame but yourself," is what Akashi softly reproaches, and he doesn't hide the amusement quirking his lips. "You're too quick to believe what your surroundings tell you, Tetsuya. Even if I was aware that I summoned you, it is only a summoning. There is no intercourse involved, unless I specifically request so. If you're not careful enough in the future, things like this will lead to your own demise."

That certainly doesn't sound pleasant.

"My demise?" Kuroko echoes, blinking. "I don’t think I understand what you're trying to say." 

"You'd be better off without listening to the people around you," Akashi simply clarifies with a gentrified nod. Eyes trailing around aimlessly in the room, he makes a point to meet Kuroko's gaze once before dropping his voice into a sultry whisper, "It is common knowledge that the walls have ears here in my citadel. Take every advice you receive with caution because while it may be seemingly harmless, you might be playing right into another person's agenda. It'd be a shame if you were to take a walk in the Round Garden one day and never emerge from the labyrinth again," he teases. "Then your body will be a fertilizer for the plants there."

Kuroko stiffens in his chair. 

Cold sweat trickles down his nape. 

"Of course, you also have to make some wise decisions regarding who serves you and who should be given the chop," he goes on, ignoring how petrified Kuroko has become. "Poisonous weeds need to be removed from your garden before it becomes a parasite to your other plants. Ah, you may take my word at face value, of course," Akashi smiles a tight-lipped smile, "but you ought to train to read between the lines to save nobody else but yourself in the end."

Suddenly, the emperor doesn't seem to be like what Kuroko imagined him to be. It's a cognitive dissonance between two things: what he's heard of the redhead isn't what he's currently witnessing. Akashi is merely content with sipping his tea and enjoying a conversation with him without making any moves, save for threatening ones in order to flourish his authority. A deadpan snarker also lies underneath unruffled feathers, but Kuroko's quite sure that he'll witness more to come if he's still alive by the time their little afternoon together comes to an end. 

Not wanting to do anything that'll incite Akashi's wrath, Kuroko settles for the next best thing and nods his head in agreement. "I understand. Thank you for spending your time with me today, Your Majesty. I doubt we'll meet each other again so I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize for my rudeness and assumptions." 

This time, Akashi gives him a perfectly quizzical look.

But it just doesn't match with his smirk. 

"Whatever do you mean by that, Tetsuya? Now that we are properly acquainted with one another, do you think that I won't summon you again in the future?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#9:** _"Have you taken any recreational classes in your spare time?" Akashi asks pleasantly, his fingers toying around with the arrangement of the delicate flowers in a vase. When Kuroko shakes his head, he clicks his tongue in contempt and sighs. "You'll be wasting your time if you decide to do nothing here. The days are long outside the city, and even longer within the palace walls. Did Ryota not tell you about this?"_


	9. i am slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy akakuro day! i'm just gonna leave this chapter right here for you guys to read. and thank you for the 222 kudos, along with the 3333 views! ;u; how do i even repay you guys? (please don't say more chapters, b/c i am shit with that)
> 
> but do enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you guys think? (*´・ｖ・)
> 
> **warning:** slight graphic description at the end of the chapter, nothing too detailed i hope.

Kuroko learns that if Akashi is in a good mood, he's a bit on the chatty side. 

"Have you taken any recreational classes in your spare time?" Akashi asks pleasantly, his fingers toying around with the arrangement of the delicate flowers in a vase. When Kuroko shakes his head, he clicks his tongue in contempt and sighs. "You'll be wasting your time if you decide to do nothing here. The days are long outside the city, and even longer within the palace walls. Did Ryota not tell you about this?"

Well, everyone in the imperial grounds seems to be awfully chatty lately, perhaps lacking things to do. Maybe even the chipper Kise mentioned something about this, but Kuroko's too lost inside his woes for the past few days until he doesn't register the wolf's words. Despite Kise's unwanted advances and misgivings, he has to say that the man has done a good job in keeping him company, so he can't sell him out like this. And definitely not to Akashi, who has a penchant for executions. 

"I just chose not to do anything," is all Kuroko replies, lowering his gaze when Akashi's eyes weigh so heavily on his shoulders. "These past few weeks challenged me emotionally, so I didn't do much of anything other than what's necessary. Kise-san has been kind enough to be patient with me, even offering to take me for a ride out." 

The emperor cocks a brow. "Did you accept?"

"No," the boy shakes his head again. "I declined." 

For a moment, Akashi doesn't utter a single word, or even make a single sound. Kuroko merely thinks that he's too absorbed in his floral arrangement, so the boy joins him in staring at the flowers. They're a gorgeous bunch, something that Kuroko's not familiar with, and the petals stretch out like little frills. Bowl-sized blossoms with a deep burgundy heart that gradually washes out to watery crimson, their leafy greens spill out from the tiny porcelain like small hands cradling a bouquet. It's almost transfixing to see how the redhead pinches between each flower with meticulous care. If it's any other man, Kuroko thinks that it would've appeared odd and somewhat effeminate, but with Akashi, it's as though he's engineered for this task.

"Do you know what these flowers are called, Tetsuya?" he breaks the silence, giving his consort a fleeting glance. 

"No. I just like looking at flowers, but I don't know their names." 

The man doesn't look offended at all at Kuroko's lack of knowledge, which is surprising. Kuroko dimly thought that Akashi could be entitled to a homicide for having to host such a terribly boring concubine. But the magnanimous emperor shows no signs of disdain; rather, he takes this as an opportunity to teach the hatchling and fetches a short stalk of the blossom for him, holding it out between slender fingers with a generous smile. Albeit confused and rather terrified inside, Kuroko accepts the offering with trembling hands. 

If Akashi noticed his anxiety, he doesn't comment on it. 

"This is a peony," he explains, and the soft breeze in his room billows the fluttery petals as though it's a greeting for Kuroko. "They bloom beautifully in spring if you plant them in fall. Little maintenance is needed to ensure that they grow well; spare the fertilizers, just give them plenty of sunlight and they'll do well enough on their own."

Kuroko gets the feeling that he's supposed to say something, but his tongue is all tangled. Flowers aren't his forte, so how would he know? Should he say that he prefers animals to flowers? But that'd only disappoint Akashi in the end, won't it? Only observing the peony in his hand, he takes a moment to mull over an appropriate response, and then tries his luck. "You know a lot about flowers, don't you, Akashi-sama?"

This elicits a chuckle from the redhead and the fine hairs on Kuroko's nape stood up at the sound. Almost eerie, he thinks, but for some odd reasons he can't comprehend, a warm feeling gathers inside his stomach. Giddiness, perhaps? Akashi is only human, after all, so why should Kuroko be afraid of another man like him? Just because of what everyone has been uttering all around him, it doesn't warrant him to be lumped together with serial killers and the like, does it?

"I study many things in my spare time," Akashi offhandedly remarks, patting the final touches on the arrangement before putting it aside. The royal reds complimented his room and the furnishings, and Kuroko can't help but to compare the skirt-like blossoms with the pale whites nearby. As if noticing his gaze, Akashi nods with approval and continues. "You mentioned that you read, yes? Perhaps you should get Ryota to fetch you some books on flowers if you fancy. The Royal Archives have plenty of books. I'm sure they'll please you."

"Ah." Kuroko vaguely recalls that he briefly mentioned about reading a book, but to think that the emperor himself caught on the little detail... he's indeed a man not to be crossed. "Thank you for your suggestion, Your Majesty. I'll ask Kise-san to take me there one day." 

"It's my pleasure, Tetsuya," Akashi responds with surprising graciousness, feasibly pleased with his words. His brows aren't creased and a vague smile plays on his lips, and if Kuroko doesn't know any better, he would've thought that whatever he's heard of the emperor before are absolute lies. "I'm unsure if they can provide you with fiction novels as I haven't been there for quite some time, but if there is anything that you need, then you may ask for them. This is your very own world now, and you need not be reserved." 

Need not be _reserved_ , or so Akashi says.

"I'd prefer it if I don't trouble anyone," Kuroko answers, and he halts himself from saying any further as he observes the expression on Akashi's face. It's like a flickering television; one moment the redhead is frowning in disproval, the next, intrigue crosses his dichromatic eyes and he motions for Kuroko to continue. Taking far too many chances are perilous, yes, but Kuroko can't think of a better timing than this one to actually make his points heard, and so, he takes a leap of faith in himself. "I came from an average family and I'm unused to the… _attention_ that I'm receiving when I first came here. Even though the amount of luxury that I have is far more than what I've ever owned," he murmurs, raising his silken sleeves for Akashi to see, "but I don't think a part of me can fully accept all of this."

At the lasts of his words, it rings like someone hits a pause button on the screen.

The emperor peers at him as though he's never heard of such an absurd excuse from his concubine, but oddly enough, he hasn't ordered for Kuroko to be taken away for a beating or something. Kuroko knows, he _knows_ he's testing his luck and he's dancing on a thin line separating disobedience and valor, but it simply isn't in his nature to sit idly by and mute himself to the surroundings. And so he waits, folding his hands on his lap whilst the leaves in the courtyard outside rustle almost ominously with the heavy breeze, scattering tiny golden blossoms over Kuroko's hair and sprawling over his seat. 

Then, Akashi twists his lips into a half-smile. 

"Tell me, Tetsuya," he drawls, "have you ever met the other concubines who are within my palace?"

Kuroko blinks. 

The leniency Akashi bestows him certainly catches him off guard, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Has he ever crossed paths with someone else draped in the same majestic robes, shouldering a burden that nobody understands? No, he doesn't think so. Shaking his head, Kuroko sighs. "I'm afraid not, Akashi-sama. I live quite some ways from here, to the far west side of the imperial grounds, and nobody ever comes by much."

"Oh." Akashi's eyes rounded on him, brows raised. That's unexpected. And quite suddenly, Kuroko feels like he's accused of something as the man gazes at Kuroko, transfixed. "That particular pavilion? The one with an old building on its grounds?"

It's a bit off-putting with how Akashi's piqued interest probes into his very core, but the teen nods all the same. After all, what's so horrible about his pavilion anyway? Despite his lack of interest in the design, he thinks it's still a good, sturdy roof over his head, one that doesn't expose him to everyone else's unwanted intrusions. Or even collapse on him in the middle of the night, god forbid. 

"I've been meaning to get rid of that building, you see," Akashi hums thoughtfully, and his right hand slips into the folds of his robes to withdraw a lacquered onyx smartphone, clicking the stylus out of its place and scrawling something onto the dimmed screen. "The pavilion you're currently residing in is rather old, and it was empty before you came in. Minor renovations have taken place in it, but it isn't equipped with enough modern facilities unlike the other pavilions near the heart of the city."

Oh. That explains why his palace is an unnatural hybrid of poignant traditional carvings and square-like, modern architecture of high-raised ceilings and wall-sized windows. 

"I've never thought that someone would be living there," the redhead goes on, leaning forward as though he's trying to get a better view of Kuroko, "but at the same time, I'm pleased to know. Your garden surely has an assortment of ancient flowering trees, am I right? They're part of what makes your particular pavilion distinguishable from the rest of the copies."

"Yes, they do, with a koi fishpond and stone lanterns too. The servants light them up at night."

Nodding, Akashi lowers his lashes and glances at the potted flowers from the corners of his eyes and slowly trails up to Kuroko. Subtly meaningful, but he keeps his words polite, only with the barest suggestions of a pleasured smile. "Perhaps I will visit your pavilion the next time, Tetsuya."

It isn't a promise, nor a mere selection of words just to make Kuroko feel as though he's an important part of Akashi's life now, but what is it? At a complete loss for words since this is a much unforeseen turn of events, Kuroko mutedly bows in his seat. The distant images of Kise saying that he almost got used for target practice, of screaming and tortured lovers, of dead bodies and restless servants, everything challenges his morals. While it's still too early to hypothesize if Akashi is just acting like how Kise did, Kuroko wonders if he'll end up spending more time with the emperor like what he's been promised. Whether it's a good thing or a bad thing, that's another matter left entirely for him to ponder later.

_"Become Akashicchi's favourite and more doors will be open to you, Kuroko-sama."_

Kise's words come back to him, haunting, and Kuroko shivers when he realizes that the blond knows what he's been saying all along. This is what he meant. This is what he sought for. And this is the outcome he wanted. He's staged everything as though it's some sort of an entertaining play for him, to mold a petty concubine between his fingers, to shape his character and virtues, to pit him against the other viciously abandoned lovers, to relish in how the outcome will be in the future. As Kuroko's bodyguard, Kise Ryota himself is quite a formidable character lingering in the shadows of his newfound life, despite his seemingly harmless smiles.

"A penny for your thoughts?" a voice slips between the cracks of his reveries, and Kuroko jerks out of his musings. Akashi is now intently gazing at him with something lacing his eyes, and his amusement speaks volumes at how Kuroko squirms under his scrutiny. 

"It's nothing important, Your Majesty," the pale teen murmurs, shaking his head. Heart beating, veins pounding, breathing shallow. Kise peers on the edge of his mind, and he washes it away with the sight of the verdant peonies, the colour of the emperor staining his thoughts. "I was thinking about something." 

"And I'm curious about your thoughts," Akashi affably responds, leaning back in his chair. "You won't eat, you won't drink, and you won't speak much of what you're thinking. Am I making you uncomfortable, Tetsuya?" 

Kuroko parts his lips, but then he falters. Guillotines and confinement chambers flashed past his eyes at some of the more controversial thoughts flitting through his mind. "I dare not say." 

"Then I shall assume that you dislike my presence. Such a pity," the emperor laments with a teasing note, and mirth flits through his eyes like a passing light. It only serves to make Kuroko's palms sweaty and he nervously swipes them over his garbs, but Akashi hasn't released his claws on the boy yet. "But I suppose it doesn't matter. Not many people prefer to be in my company, and I'm aware of my reputation among my subjects." 

How the man talks as if he isn't concerned is beyond Kuroko's comprehension. Since the redhead opted to conceal his animal traits, there aren't any clues as to what he's feeling. Kise is an open book with how his tail and ears flex to express his emotions; Akashi is the complete otherwise, another side of the mirror. Cool composure and carefully trimmed words, he does little to reveal his inner thoughts, and just thinking about it makes a chill run down Kuroko's spine. If he knows about his notoriety and he isn't affected by it, then what would? 

Just as soon as Kuroko's done formulating a response and opens his mouth to reply, a sound knock echoes through the room and steals his moment away. 

"Your Majesty," a muffled voice filters past the heavy doors, and from the distinct austerity in his voice, Kuroko could instantly tell that it's Midorima on the other end. "Forgive my interruption, but the court will be in session in thirty more minutes. Please get ready."

Akashi nods, despite not being able to be seen by his advisor, and primly arranges his robes. So it has finally come to an end, their little meeting. Kuroko doesn't know why, it isn't a washing relief that floods his heart, but something earthly fills it instead. While he should be rejoicing that he isn't stuck with this monster any longer, he definitely can't say that he didn't enjoy their little conversation together. It's surprising how much a bloodlust murderer can inspire such feelings within his heart, but Kuroko couldn't help but to muse if the next time they cross paths, will it just be the same like this again?

Teas, flowers, idle talks, fresh breeze. 

Perhaps a walk together in his pavilion like what was implied.

And Akashi's heartening words dawdle in his mind.

Kuroko pins the entire faults for these thoughts on having little sleep this morning, and decides that the first thing he'll do when he reaches his pavilion is to sleep the day away. Or get another bath and a massage, whichever that the maids would suggest first.

"You have my gratitude for pleasing me with your company today, Tetsuya," Akashi speaks up, succinct. This brings a look of pure perplex on Kuroko's face, who's not expecting such words of gratitude from the emperor himself, but Akashi doesn't seem to mind as he rises from the sofa, giving the boy a deceitful smile. "I enjoyed today more than I thought I would, despite your apparent reluctance. I'll send for Daiki to take you back to your pavilion safe and sound, so worry not." Then he pauses, almost playful in his words. "You don't want me to call for you again, do you?"

Kuroko tenses. Refusing the emperor for several times in a day would be a sure way to land him on the bucket list to head chops, but so far he's gotten away with it. What if he'll manage to escape from this offer unscathed again? Will Lady Luck smile on him twice?

_"Become Akashicchi's favourite and more doors will be open to you, Kuroko-sama."_

Doors. Just like how he wants to open the doors in Akashi's foyers, Kise wants him to open the doors to unlock his potential. Kuroko is a developing omega; his body is fluid and ever-changing. So is his heart. What if he emerges from this game victorious, where he finally towers above others not only in his name, but in his character as well? For sixteen years, he's been living in the shadows, just the supporting actor on the stage, a non-playable character in someone's life. Now that he's a concubine, a rare breeder with copious potential, shouldn't he seize the chance and make it his?

His body is unwilling but he knows his mind is set. 

Kuroko takes a deep, shaky breath before raising his chin, daring himself to stare right into Akashi's piercing eyes, and bares the slightest of a smile.

"Do whatever that pleases you, Akashi-sama, since I'm a humble servant of yours."

When Akashi's eyes widen just a fraction and a hint of a morbid smirk travels across sealed lips, Kuroko Tetsuya covers his fate with a steely resolve. He can do this. He will seize control of the palace and untangle the ribbons chaining the condemned traditions. Even at the expense of his own sanity. 

Kuroko fingers the preciously blossoming peony, and knows he's gained Akashi's approval from that moment onwards.

* * *

His return isn't all so impressive, however. Lethargic beyond belief, Kuroko feels as though his legs are going to fail him, but thankfully Aomine's got a good grip around his shoulder as he hoists the boy inside. Kise awaits him patiently in the vestibule of his house, seated on an acacia armchair, and bounds over like a faithful dog as though nothing has transpired between them. 

"Kuroko-sama!" he chirps, latching onto Kuroko's sleeve readily even though he had his qualms before this. "Are you okay!? Akashicchi really did it this time, huh? I-I'll go and get some ointments for you-"

"He didn't get his ass pounded, Kise, calm your balls." Aomine gruffly swats the blonde away, and Kuroko's really glad that the panther's here to deal with his overly attached bodyguard. Though he does glance at the courtesan warily, as though he's gauging Kuroko's strength, and promptly decides that it isn't life-threatening. "Tetsu's just drained from getting played around by Akashi. You know how he is, all those cryptic words and messages invades worse than his cock."

… count on Aomine to handle this situation nonchalantly. 

"Aaah-Kuroko-sama, don't let _Aho_ minecchi sully your ears' virginity!" Kise wails, making a quick grab to slap his hands over the boy's ears. "Stop being so vulgar around Kuroko-sama, Aominecchi! You're going to defile his pure soul!"

How ironic, Kuroko wryly thinks. Wasn't it just hours ago that Kise's all sultry, being provocative and lurid with his words, suggesting sex and fingers here and there? Now he's being the advocate of justice and purity? It's so laughable until Kuroko would've commented on it but he knows he's exhausted, so he stays docile and lets the grown-ups do the talking. Though from their content of speech, it's easy enough to mistaken them as overgrown hormonal teens instead.

"As far as I know, Tetsu signed up to be a concubine so he's not going to stay holy for long," the other man grouses, shaking his head. "Well, whatever. C'mon, let's get him inside before he expires. I'm not gonna take responsibility if Akashi finds out that Tetsu's dead, no thanks to your whining."

That shuts him up faster than everything else could have. Wordlessly, Kise takes his place on the other side and joins them, effortlessly supporting the delicate omega. Their messy footfalls echo in the lobby as they pass by a series of artistic oil paintings, striding past gossiping maids who are giving them the eyeful, going through interconnecting hallways and brushing off any queries regarding Kuroko's health, and they only stop once they're safely inside Kuroko's vanilla-scented bedroom. It's like an unscripted drama when Aomine separates from them to rummage through the vanity's lacquered drawers and Kise props Kuroko against fluffed pillows, his jaw tight. 

"You sure Akashicchi didn't do anything to you?" he asks, apprehension brimming in his eyes. "Like… he didn't force himself on you, or-"

A packet of wet tissues smacks him soundly at the back of his head. 

"I told you Akashi didn't tear him a new asshole, idiot. If not, we could've smelled the freak all over him," Aomine groans with a roll of his eyes, tail twitching impatiently at Kise's horrendous brand of mothering. He makes himself a new home on the edge of Kuroko's bed, flops over on it, and wriggles against the silken sheets. "Damn, Tetsu, you got a fine bed. You think I'm gonna get whipped by Midorima if I spend the night here?"

"Try drowned, moron," the wolf rebukes, picking up the packet and tearing it open to pull out a moist sheet. He dabs the tissue on Kuroko's face with astounding gentleness, something that even the boy has a hard time believing that it's possible, but Kise hardly notices that Kuroko's round eyes are on him. "I'm just glad that you're okay, Kuroko-sama," he says, frowning. "We're all so happy that you made it back alive because some of them don't even return after the first meeting."

"You've got nothing to worry, Tetsu's charmed Akashi so it'll be a while before anything tragic happens. Never seen the guy fascinated with someone like this before," the other says, rolling over to lie on his stomach. His words come out muffled when he goes on, but it's still intelligible otherwise. "I think we're gonna meet more of each other starting from now on, so all the best to your ass in the future, Tetsu. Pretty sure Akashi will make you bleed on your first time, and this is coming from my experience of wiping bloodied car seats."

Kuroko's conflicted between closing his eyes when Kise swipes over his brow bones to remove any remaining traces of powder or keeping them open out the fear of having a disturbing image spark past his mind. 

"Nothing beats the thing he did a few years back, seriously. You piss off Akashi too much, you can say goodbye to your body," the wolf mumbles, wiping off a faint trace of pink across Kuroko's cheekbones. "I know the guard over at the field still can't sleep to this day because of what he saw."

Kuroko knows he'll regret this, but his tongue is heavy with a question. 

"Do what, exactly?"

"Oh, you know, killing and stuffs," Kise offhandedly comments, so distracted with his task until he's barely aware of the descriptions he's about to depict. "There was this guy, Takehito or something, and I don't know what he did but he obviously made a mistake so grave that Akashicchi can't pardon him. I heard he was given the option to kill himself honorably to atone for it, but he refused. So Akashicchi took it upon himself as some sort of responsibility to see that he'll be dead by sunset because none of his other servants could carry out his orders. They thought it was too cruel and heartless, but they can't go against his words."

"Wait, wait, is this the story about _that_ Takehito?" Aomine tries, sounding incredibly scandalized at the thought. "You mean he's that guy who was caught keeping some of the country's profits to himself, right? I think everyone knows about it, even if they don't want to know, since Akashi's the one who personally killed him."

"I heard about it, but I didn't know what he was guilty for. If that's really what he did, then he really deserved it." Kise frowns, tightening his lips. "Anyway Kuroko-sama, what happened was that Akashicchi placed the guy face-down and slices up the flesh so that blood comes out and all. Then he just steps back and lets the vultures from the breeding grounds swarm over the guy, pecking and eating the guy to death while he's still alive. That's pretty much the only reason why we have vultures in here anyway. It's kind of gruesome because those birds will really pick him apart until there's nothing but bones left. It's a strong reminder for those of them who think that they can take advantage of him—"

Kuroko's only warning is a choked gasp before he hurls onto his bed sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#10:** _Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his sanity, he's aware of the repercussions that would follow if he lays a hand on Kuroko like this. If Midorima comes out after picking up the scent of Kise's arousal in the wind, he'd be as good as dead because Midorima despises rule-breakers. If Kuroko regains his consciousness when Kise's in the middle of biting on his shoulder and leaving red, red, **red** marks against the alabaster skin, he knows he'll get punched in the gut because Kuroko doesn't hesitate in making his demands known. If Kise manages to curl his hands around Kuroko's cock and get him hard with his pre cum dripping from between his thighs, he thinks he'll be able to get away with it because Kuroko's so pliant and mouthy when he feels the slightest amount of pleasure since he's so sensitive—_


	10. want emancipation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, here you have a very late update. the reason being is because i was swamped with assignments, one after another. very gomen for that. also, i bring very fabulous fanart from a reader called [**mirror_bluemoon**](http://mirror-bluemoon.deviantart.com/), and here it is! [**{clickie here}**](http://mirror-bluemoon.deviantart.com/art/Kuroko-no-Basket-449298490?q=gallery%3Amirror-bluemoon&qo=0)  
>  ahhh i can go on ages about how pretty it is, how subtle it's made for kuroko, and uuuughhh my kokoro, this girl is a talented artist i swear to god. and she also does very good akakuro art too, so do check her out! /dies  
> regardless, thanks for the wait, everyone, and here you go, the next chapter!

News travels fast, it seems.

Only two days after his meeting with the emperor and the whole pavilion—no, _palace_ is abuzz with the outcome. Whispers float through his opened windows; some of his gossipy servants share scandalous news bits with the guards, and he knows that he's the word of the week. Apparently, it isn't an everyday occurrence that Akashi would let one of his concubines walk away with the rest of his or her body intact. Kuroko doesn't know whether he should feel pleased with his achievements or start worrying if he'll be decapitated in their next meeting. When the concubine's busy nursing his own worries, Kise, on the other hand, could run a hole through the carpet with all the pacing he's done. 

Obviously, the blonde doesn't take it in strides because his henpecking gets even worse with each passing hour. 

"Please sit down, Kise-san, you're making me dizzy," Kuroko says, trying to pacify the man. It doesn't help that he's feeling the exhaustion of these few days seeping through his bones and a headache's pricking his eyes insistently, but the wolf doesn't seem to notice any of it. 

It only serves to make Kise even jumpier than ever. "Midorimacchi didn't reply to my mail about increasing your number of guards, Kuroko-sama!" he gripes, wringing his fingers in an overly dramatic fashion. "Oh my god, I don’t want anything to happen to you—I don't trust anyone else to be your secondary bodyguard—what if he takes advantage of you—I gotta look through the list of possible candidates—aaaargh, but Midorimacchi has the list!" Exasperated beyond belief, Kise gulps down oxygen as though he just ran a marathon with his imaginations. "B-But if Midorimacchi has the list and he's not replying..."

Not knowing whether to sympathize with him or to offer useless suggestions, Kuroko palms his cheek and simply watches from the sidelines. 

Honestly? The teen has no idea what this is about. He has some vague ideas that he can't confirm with Kise in case it gets the blonde hyperventilating through the roof, so he's stuck trying to put the pieces together by himself. Not to mention that a migraine's blooming at the side of his brain, overthinking triggers a pounding pain and Kuroko would very much like to avoid that. Trying to get help for Kise is useless too, as far as he could tell. All eyes are on him every time he moves, and the clinking chains circling his ankles notify people of his activities, so he's almost always stuck in a spot. And when he's stuck in a spot, this is usually the situation that follows soon after. 

"—Aominecchi's not good enough, he'll grope Kuroko-sama when I'm not looking," Kise grumbles under his breath, making his way back and forth on the Seirafian rug, and Kuroko's almost worried that he might leave imprints of his feet over the starburst medallion weaves. "What if I get—no, Murasakicchi's not going to leave the kitchen anytime soon since he's lazy... ugh, I don't want to call Kasamatsu-san either since he'll murder me if I slack off. But if anyone's going to do the job, it's definitely him... "

"I don't think I need more bodyguards," Kuroko says, frowning. What if Kasamatsu ends up as the same copy of Kise? That'll be more headache than ever, he thinks. His throat feels like it's swelling and his stomach squirms with discomfort, but Kuroko holds it all in with a grimace and tries to smile. "Don't worry, I'll take care of myself. You should concentrate on your other jobs." 

Kuroko's words made Kise whine low in his throat and his tail thumps erratically behind him as his ears prick forward. "But Kuroko-sama, you're my responsibility. If something happens to you while I'm on the job, I think I'll jump right into the Round Garden's lake!" 

Kuroko sighs, his shoulders slouching with the weight of his thoughts. It's so hard to placate the blonde when he's so jittery like this. To make Kise see his point would probably take more drastic effort than he initially thought it would, since he's so childlike at heart. "Please don’t jump into any lake anytime soon, Kise-san, that'll be a problem for me because I don't want any bodyguards other than you. You're more than enough to take care of me." 

He doesn't put much thought into his sentences or even imply anything in the string of words either. But Kise's staring at him, slack-jawed, watery golden eyes, and that's all the warning Kuroko gets before the wolf collapses on his knees and sob dramatically into his lap. Fresh tears drench the emerald silks Kuroko wears and he fidgets at the stickiness, trying not to imagine the dripping snots that would soon follow the massive sobbing fit. Some adults are so good at theatrics until it's hard for him to tell whether the blonde is just acting out his part as a child or just being his usual insensible self. 

"Kise-san is being too emotional today," Kuroko placidly observes, commenting on the topic like he's talking about the weather. Those wolf ears prod against his belly and it's rather embarrassing when Kise buries his face even further into Kuroko's lap, refusing to look up. Patience is virtue, Kuroko recites in his heart, so when he lifts his hand and threads his fingers through Kise's fine golden hair, he tells himself that some children need a bit more of encouragement and love. "But honestly, I'm a bit touched that you worry a lot about me. Thank you for always being concerned." 

What follows next is a garble of words and Kise's fingers dig into his thighs, wailing like a banshee.

The boy sighs again, patiently patting the man's head. His vision is spinning and blotches of gold stains his eyes , but Kuroko screws his eyes shut and wills them to go away, to go away together with the headache, migraine, fatigue, whatever that's been haunting him these days. "If Kise-san is really worried about me, then we should go and see Midorima-san. Maybe he's too busy until he doesn't have the chance to sit down and look through his phone."

That makes him stop mid-howling. 

An intense silence fills the air.

"Be a good boy, go and wash your face," Kuroko says, putting a tone of finality in his voice. It's evident enough that Kise hadn't thought of that possibility yet, judging from his quiet response, so it's obviously up to Kuroko to be the sensible adult in this situation. "Then after you're done, we can go together."

When Kise finally pops his head up and peeps at Kuroko from underneath matted lashes, still sniffing, the boy manages a small smile and ruffles his hair. He knows Kise is already frantically pampering him every single day even when he isn't ill, and he doesn't wish to make the blonde even more troubled if he says that he isn't up for the journey ahead of him, especially when he's nauseous and drained to the core. Putting on a brave façade is the best option from here on. 

And he stifles another sigh.

Looks like it'll be a long day today.

* * *

Kise hates crying, especially when it's a full-out bawl like what he just did. Not that he isn't expressive, it's just that it gets embarrassing when he does it in front of someone else. If it was Kasamatsu, he wouldn't have batted an eyelash because Kasamatsu's so used to seeing Kise bawl like a baby (he's also part of the reason why Kise cries most of the time anyway). But when the subject is Kuroko, it's a big deal because Kuroko's so stoic until he's pretty sure that if the boy laughs, it'll be the end of the world for him.

Thankfully though, Kuroko seems like he doesn't mind because he still has the impassive look on his face, keeping silent even when he's ushered into the Maybach. Kise's almost proud of himself for being able to keep his car clean unlike Aomine because he knows that the panther always has his servants to clean up his ride, so the betas always end up complaining to Kise when he used to come around for small talks. He doesn't miss the approving glint in the concubine's eyes and Kise makes it a point to drive as carefully as he could, looking left and right before rolling down the sharp curves leading to Midorima's office. 

"You might feel a bit sick during the journey, Kuroko-sama. Midorimacchi's quarters is somewhere in the woods close to the mountains, so the roads are kind of winding all the way there."

"Midorima-san lives in the woods?" Kuroko echoes, blinking owlishly. "Why?"

Why indeed? Kise's not quite sure how to answer this but basing it on his logic, he squints at the reflection of the concubine in the rear mirror. Is it him or does Kuroko look a tad bit paler today? Perhaps the colour of his blusher is a bit off today, or the intensity of his lip tint isn't as striking as usual. Shrugging it off his shoulders, the blonde focuses his attention forward.

"Probably it's because he's a bird guy, but I don't know what kind of bird since he's never told any of us. Midorimacchi doesn't like to show off his wings either—I've only seen them once and they're huge, so I kind of feel sorry for him if he has to lug around something of that size on his back. Ah, but his boyfriend Takao is a beta hawk, so it makes sense why they both like to live together in the forests of the grounds anyway. You know that English saying, uh—birds of a feather flock together?"

"I see." And the boy is definitely unimpressed at his knowledge of the proverb, since he leaves it at that and stares outside the window instead, propping his chin against the slight curve of the door.

There isn't anything remotely fascinating about their journey anyway, Kise thinks, even as he drives on the asphalt with a considerable amount of speed so that Kuroko can see where they're going. Since the young concubine's pavilion is at the far left-hand side of the imperial grounds, he's also the one closest to the woods, closest to the outer walls, and closest to Midorima's place. The path changes from surrounding granite banisters lining the roads to dainty shrubs instead, and for those of them who are accustomed with the way, they'd know that the road will go through a series of twisting coils and creepy forest trees. 

"Hold on tight, Kuroko-sama." His hands grip the steering wheel firmly and Kise manages to cast a fleeting glance at Kuroko, who returns his gaze with a questioning look. He grins. "We're going up the hills so if you think you're going to feel sick, you should close your eyes and lie down or something. Not many people like to go up to Midorimacchi's place because of this and I think that's also why he picked this place. You know how he is, the lesser the crowd, the better."

Not inclined to agree or disagree, Kuroko nods and obediently closes his eyes, though he doesn't stretch out on the back seat. Typical Kuroko, who's so stubborn and thinks he can handle it. Oh well, Kise can say that he did warn the boy, so he's not liable for any vomit-inducing moments afterwards. There isn't anything interesting to look out for outside the car by now since there are just the typical forest scenes and a sky of greens, so Kise steps on the gas pedal and his ride purrs as it effortlessly speeds up, blowing crusty leaves away from its path. 

Fingers tapping a steady rhythm, the car accelerates to a near 170 km/h and Kise relishes tiny moments like this when he gets to enjoy the speed and nothing else. 

_'If Aominecchi's here, he would've raced me.'_

The blonde chuckles at the thought and shakes his head, biting back a grin. 

Back then when he's still a pup at this whole royalty thing, it gives him adrenaline rush whenever Aomine challenges him. From eating until passing out in Murasakibara's kitchen, racing up to Midorima's palace in the rain, to simple earthly activities like basketball and catching crayfish during the blistering summer heat, he still can't beat the panther no matter how hard he tries, but that's okay. They're just too old now for those things. And now that Kise's given the task of mothering Kuroko the hatchling, their paths are straying from one another and gone were the days where he's the typical office man, typical scouting boy, typical member of the society in Akashi's court. 

Unconsciously, he grimaces as reds splatter across his mind.

"We're almost there, Kuroko-sama," the wolf breaks the silence, washing off the image of a redhead who slips into his thoughts as though he's entitled to it. "Please hold on a little bit longer."

Kuroko doesn't reply.

Large trees soon give way to a flat ground and he's grateful for the distraction as Midorima's abode looms in the distance. He's a conservative man, one who prefers traditional-styled sloping roofs over flat tops and chimneys, so his residence is a typical Japanese den that resembles an overlord's mansion from the middle ages. Dreary grey paints for the tiles and deep wooden beams support the whole structure, and Kise spots an additional element hiding behind the gates: a statue of a kappa. Whether that's his lucky item for the day or just his bizarre taste, Kise doesn't know but he slows down all the same and parks the Maybach outside the palace walls, just before the gates. 

Turning off the engine and stepping out of the car, he hurries over to Kuroko's side and opens the door for him…

… only to see that the blue-haired boy is sprawled over the seats, passed out. 

Kise blinks. Well. Shit. He knows that the concubine is so fragile underneath all that bravado he puts up, but not to the extent of fainting from Kise's mad driving skills. Maybe his lethargy played a big part in this or something.

Head tossed back and baring his neck, Kuroko's locks are all mussed up with the beaded tourmaline headpiece sitting askew on his hair. The bitingly pale skin of his collarbones is exposed and Kise takes a moment to admire the sharp juts of the boy's masculinity that strangely overpowers his blooming omega traits. It's there, but it's not there yet—childlike face, fluttery lashes, slightly parted lips which contrast boldly against cropped hair, sharp strokes of his throat, and painfully thin wrists. Kuroko is a work in progress— _his_ work in progress, Kise realizes after a moment's hesitation. Because, really, everything that Kuroko's becoming is Kise's own sweat and blood put into action; how he clothes himself, how he dines, how he sits erect in his chair, how he brushes stray bangs away from his face, how he bites into his bottom lip and looks aside when he's muted, how he peers at Kise demurely from underneath half-lidded eyes with curved lips as he asks for—

Kise inhales sharply and steps away from the car, clutching his head.

It's no good. 

Since when did he get drawn into this world? This world where anything and everything that's chaining him down goes by the name Kuroko Tetsuya? A web of thorns that he's woven for Kuroko to step into, yet he's the one tangled in the process? Is that the sort of failure mastermind that he is? He'll fall victim to Kuroko's bewitching charm, won't he? But what if he doesn't care? Cold sweat streaks down his temples and the blonde shudders as he fights against the baser urge to trap Kuroko between his arms and just—

It's _no_ good.

Resisting the familiar warm coil is useless and his ears twitch at the thought of bunching his fingers inside Kuroko's robes and inhaling the intoxicating scent of cheap vanilla bar soap intermingled with faint notes of musk. He knows that smell from anywhere; he's used to asking for Kuroko's robes under the pretence of familiarizing himself with the boy, but it crawls over his skin and leaves him heady, hungering to do it again where the silks clung to Kuroko's skin, where it smells the strongest—

It's no _good._

Kise's throat is dry and he's thirsty. 

Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his sanity, he's aware of the repercussions that would follow if he lays a hand on Kuroko like this. If Midorima comes out after picking up the scent of Kise's arousal in the wind, he'd be as good as dead because Midorima despises rule-breakers. If Kuroko regains his consciousness when Kise's in the middle of biting on his shoulder and leaving red, red, _red_ marks against the alabaster skin, he knows he'll get punched in the gut because Kuroko doesn't hesitate in making his demands known. If Kise manages to curl his hands around Kuroko's cock and get him hard with his pre cum dripping from between his thighs, he thinks he'll be able to get away with it because Kuroko's so pliant and mouthy when he feels the slightest amount of pleasure since he's so sensitive—

It's no good _at all._

He doesn't think. He moves.

Kise's hand shot out quicker than he registered, fingertips ghosting against the exposed ankle littered with bejewelled anklets, and he sinks down onto his knees to _worship_ , to kiss the toned calves hidden underneath layers of glittering robes. Kuroko's pale knees peer at him, concealing round thighs that Kise wants to suck on, and his lust spikes up and leaves him with shaky hands as he hikes up the fragile material, letting his eyes feast on the sight of Kuroko's pure, untouched inner thighs. His robes are unkempt, almost undone save for the obi that cages everything into place, but that's the least of Kise's worries now. 

A finger hooks into his tie and loosens the suffocating grip, he unbuttons his collar and prowls over Kuroko's body now, letting his knee sink into the leather upholstered seat, one hand pressed beside the teen's head and the other just freely skimming over his chest. The heat radiating off Kuroko's pliant body is warm, enticingly warm and just inviting him to press his lips against the collarbones, and he grazes his fingers against a cloth-covered nipple. He feels it hardening as he rubs against the nub back and forth, the silky cool material providing extra stimulation, and for a moment there, Kise catches a soft hitching of Kuroko's breathing as blood rushes to his cheeks and staining him deliciously like a forbidden apple. 

It's dangerous. 

This is dangerous. 

But the thoughts excited him far too much and he groans at the lewd visuals overrunning his sanity as he thinks of sneaking a hand between Kuroko's parted thighs and curling his fingers around the boy's cock, slicking his palm with the pre cum and thumbing the slit just to make Kuroko mewl for more. He wants to unlace Kuroko for all that's worth it, he wants to unzip his slacks and squeeze their cocks together with rough jerks, he wants to shove Kuroko down on the seat and let him writhe on the leather, he wants to press a finger into Kuroko's tight heat and stretch him so that Kise's cock will fit snugly in the warmth, he just wants to become a slave to the transient concubine named Kuroko Tetsuya. 

Somehow, there are too many 'what-ifs', too many things to think about when Kise's already achingly hard, the bulge straining firmly against his pants, and all he wants to do is just bury his nose in the crook of Kuroko's neck while grinding down, and he can barely pick up the scent of another alpha standing right behind him until it's too late. 

A hand is on Kise's shoulder and it grips him with forbidding strength.

"What do you think you're doing, Ryota?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#11:** _"Of course, it's understandable as to why he'd do that, since he is your bodyguard for now," Akashi nods sympathetically, even though there is really nothing sympathetic at all from the way he's smirking. Oh well, now that they've come to this, he figures he might as well inform his concubine of what had transpired earlier. It wouldn't do to have Kuroko unaware of his perilous predicament, absolutely not. "But Tetsuya, there is something that I would like you to take note of. It's concerning Ryota, if you're wondering."_


	11. baby i'm not a monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late update is late. my internet conked out on me, and so i survived on minimal data plans on phone and tumblr queues. very gomen. **ALSO, THANK YOU FOR THE 334 KUDOS!** all your precious comments have been replied to, i hope! :D in the meantime, do enjoy this chapter, 4700 words of akashi and kuroko. and next chapter will be about 5500 words of kise and kuroko that i have yet to optimize. /hugs darling readers ;u;

Everything's a hazy blur when Kuroko flutters his lashes, blinking the sleep away from his eyes. 

Hundreds of coiling dragon carvings embrace the high ceilings, nestling in tiny crooks near the edges and encircling the recessed lighting fixtures with their outstretched claws. What a foreign sight, he must've been dreaming again, but the cold nipping his calves tell him otherwise. He better get up, it seems. Uncoiling himself from a baroque French settee, Kuroko's hands nimbly reassemble his robes again, putting the hems where they should be covering and tugging the sleeves until they brush against his fingertips. An unusual emptiness on his head gets him looking around for traces of his headpiece and he barely notices the pink tourmaline sitting atop a stack of books on a glass coffee table.

"You're awake."

Disoriented, Kuroko's eyes slip from his feet to the owner of the voice. Midorima sits erect with a sombre look; green hair slicked back and lengthy lashes hiding behind lame glasses, the perfect image of a composed minister. He's dressed exorbitantly well today with his ink black robes cut from embossed brocades, deep grey silks cinching his waist as a sash, and Mandarin buttons clipping the collar all the way down to his chest. A cup of tea pinched between bandaged fingers, Midorima's temperately peeved at something—nobody knows what, but Kuroko's no longer in the comfort of his palace. It's the alpha's territory now, and he'd do well to behave in the presence of a terrifying master. 

"Kuroko-sama, I'm so glad you're okay!"

There's Kise, who's precariously perched on the edge of a similar armchair, tail wriggling in excitement and eyes lighting up like a puppy. Kuroko's lips curve into a slight smile when he sees the doting blonde and subdued warmth stains his heart. It can't be helped—despite his misgivings, Kise is an infectious creature and Kuroko's weak against affectionate ones like him, even though he can be a tad bit overbearing. Surprisingly, Kise hasn't leapt into his arms yet, or even remotely made a move on Kuroko, but the boy simply brushes it off and thinks no more about it. 

"Tetsuya, so glad you could join us."

Kuroko's blood runs cold. 

A daub of redness moves from the corners of his eyes, and he sees the statuesque emperor seated with a leather-bound book in his hands. Wearing garbs with many layers fitting of the traditional ruler, Akashi assumes regality with how he clads himself in stark whiteness; purity is unbecoming on him, but he pulls off the look effortlessly. He observes Kuroko like he's watching a writhing captive and tilts his head back to enjoy the view, a secret smile playing on his lips. Enjoying the view of what else other than Kuroko as it's _that_ obvious, Akashi even has the gall to curl his fingers repeatedly on the book cover as though he longs to caress something. Kuroko is quite sure that he's being lavished with Akashi's attention, but dread wells up and he tries not to break the eye-contact. 

"Thank you for having me here, Midorima-san. It's a pleasure to meet you again, Your Majesty," Kuroko starts, body already bending to form a half-bow, but Akashi merely waves it off so he straightens his back. Looks like the emperor in one of his good moods again, where he isn't half as homicidal as he usually is, but he reeks of his dominating alpha scent and it's starting to suffocate Kuroko. "I apologise for my lack of manners, it seems that I fainted during the ride here," he says, hiding his lips behind the curtain of his sleeve as he trails his eyes from Akashi, Midorima, and finally Kise. "I'll take caution to sleep during the ride home, Kise-san." 

"I'm sure you've learned your lesson, right, Ryōta?" Akashi chides knowingly, and for a split second, the wolf uncharacteristically froze. "You should always be considerate towards Tetsuya since he's very fragile."

Kuroko blinks. Him, fragile? He hardly thinks so. "No, Kise-san did warn me that it'll be a turbulent ride," he says, shaking his head. Midorima looks like he has half the mind to throw a book at him so that he'd shut up and not talk back to Akashi, but the emperor himself amusedly eyes Kuroko as though he's a mewling kitten having a clawing fit. "I should've lie down like what he suggested," he adds after a moment's consideration. "I'm sorry for being stubborn, Kise-san."

"Oh—no, no, no! Kuroko-sama, please don't apologise to me!" Kise half-wails, despite having stars in his eyes at Kuroko's apology. "I'll drive carefully when we go downhill, okay?"

Midorima wets his lips and clears his throat derisively, interrupting the exchange before it goes on any longer. "Anyway, it is a good thing that you've finally woken up. Now you can finally make a move home together." On a warning note, the minister shot Kise a glare. "And you. Do be considerate towards your charge, unless you want to go back to desk work again." 

Desk work?

"What sort of job did Kise-san used to do before this?" Kuroko asks, rather intrigued at the hints Midorima's dropping. Kise's background is almost always shrouded in mystery and he hardly replies even though Kuroko's questioned before, opting to answer questions Kuroko's never asked or even diverting his attention to dinner or prowling servants. If he wants answers, then he might as well ask them today.

It's only brief, but Kise's ears perk forward and Midorima subtly adjusts his position on the chair, clearing his throat. 

They meet reciprocally agreed silence on the matter.

And Kuroko doesn't need more contextual clues to know that he's digging into his grave three inches deeper than before. 

"Ryōta handles the new concubines, don't you know?" Akashi collectively answers for them, swiftly burying the matter behind him with his words. He's not the least bit perturbed with how Kuroko's too nosy for his own good now; instead, a disconcerting glean of approval lights his eyes and he says, "Previously, he processed the intakes with Daiki but now Shintarou has taken over it. Let's just say that he'll face dire consequences if he doesn't follow the rules. Utterly dire."

"And that's also why he'll return to the boring deskwork if he's not up to my standards," Midorima adds. 

Kise pulls his legs to his chest and sulks on the armchair. "Midorimacchi, threatening me like that is too mean."

Midorima spares him a glance before rolling his eyes, obviously used to the blonde's theatrics, and dips his hand into a hidden pocket sewn into his garb. Withdrawing a small packet of white, he slides it over to Kise, who then perks up and snatches it away, stuffing it deep within the recesses of his jacket like a deprived thief. Kuroko mulishly ignores their interaction despite having witnessed every second of it, and pretends not to take any notice as Midorima adjusts his glasses. 

"I won't threaten you every now and then if you don't keep messing up everything you do, Kise," he simply lapses back into the topic, "but at least you're a better choice for Kuroko compared to Aomine. He's a man full of disappointments."

"Perhaps Daiki will soon realize that someone else will replace him if his performance is unsatisfactory," Akashi says, not letting his mismatched gaze off Kuroko for even a second even though he's addressing Midorima. It's as if Akashi's talking to the boy, but everyone knows that Kuroko holds little knowledge in matters like this, so why would he? "There is a man called Taiga; he seems promising, from what Atsushi's friend has mentioned. Like a namesake, he's a tiger and he's almost a copy of Daiki, but not quite. He'll make for an interesting collection, I imagine." 

_Collection?_

"So you'll take him in? What'll happen to Aominecchi?" Kise asks, obviously fidgeting on his chair. Worry lances through his golden eyes and Akashi laughs, almost melodic and deceiving. 

"No, Ryōta. Daiki is unique and so is Taiga. Simply removing Daiki just because his performance is unsatisfactory is wasteful," Akashi reassures, awfully cheery despite the ominousness of his words. "Why, I'd rather spend my time retraining him instead. He has broken far too many rules despite my forgiveness, and he should know better than to take advantage of my benevolence."

_Retraining?_

Is Akashi actually serious about it?

"Agreed, retraining him would be for the best, since Aomine might be even more unruly if we leave him be. I will make arrangements for it in the next few days." Midorima brushes it off with a nod, as though retraining is a word that isn't only reserved for animals, rather a part of Akashi's speech vocabulary in his daily life. If he is used to it, Kuroko certainly isn't. "At any rate, Your Majesty, I'd like to excuse myself from your venerable presence. Kise and I," he pauses, eyes flickering ever so lightly towards the blonde, "have to sort _certain_ matters in my office."

"Ah." The emperor curtly nods, understanding washing over his eyes as his lips crawl into a smile. Is it a certain secret? Kuroko could never tell, especially not with how Akashi is pleased with how things are going. "Yes, of course. You may leave, the two of you. I'll entertain Tetsuya in the meantime."

That catches Kuroko's attention like a sharp sting to his arm. 

Alarm bells ring inside his head and he digs his fingers into the cushion, his mind calculating the consequences of being left alone with the emperor. Their last meeting went well enough to warrant his existence for another day, but who's to say that he'll survive this impromptu encounter? If Akashi's cheeriness deteriorates, Kuroko can't say if he'll emerge unscathed. 

Kise catches the desperation growing in his eyes and he bites onto his lower lip, yet he doesn't budge from his seat. No comforting words fall from his lips; the wolf tears his gaze away and leaves Kuroko hanging alone all by himself as the two of them unceremoniously leave the room without even sparing Kuroko a single glance. 

As the door closes behind their retreating backs, Akashi's smile widens pleasantly.

* * *

"You haven't been to the library yet?"

"No, I'm afraid," Kuroko passively replies, his head downcast as he peers into his teacup like the rippling drink foretells an entire script for him to recite to Akashi. "Kise-san has been a bit too preoccupied with the notion that someone has an evil grudge against me. He fears that if I step out of my pavilion, I will be assassinated anytime soon." He pauses, takes a sip of his drink, and lowers his lashes. "So in the meantime, I'm staying low."

"That's a waste. You could be doing so much more outside if you were given the freedom." 

"Yes, I think so too. But he keeps me in check, so I'm thankful for him."

Akashi chooses not to respond to that. Kuroko's fairly attached with his protector, Kise, and it'd be quite a disheartening tragedy to see their relationship crumble if word gets out about Kise's provocative action. _Quite_ disheartening indeed.

Instead, he reaches to the side table and withdraws a worn paperback, smoothening out the creases with his palm. Once satisfied, he holds it out and lets Kuroko accept his offering with both hands, blue eyes fixed on the shabby cover. "I've been rereading this book in my spare time," he says. "It might not be to your liking, but it's better than doing nothing. I believe you must be bored, cooped up in your palace without even knowing what's going on outside the walls. You need to have something to keep you company, Tetsuya."

A moment passes with Kuroko eyeing the book. 

"Sōseki's Kokoro?" he reads the title aloud, now looking at Akashi disbelievingly, as though he expected to be handed a vial of poison instead of a leisure reading material. When Akashi simply nods, Kuroko turns over the book to inspect for anything suspicious—not that Akashi has it laced with poison, oh no—and turns to the cover again. "I've read his other book, 'And Then'," he confesses, "but I've never read this one yet. What did you think about it?"

"If you liked 'And Then', you'll find yourself agreeing with this one as well," Akashi says, not divulging the content and enjoying how he's hedged around Kuroko's question evasively. "If you'd like, you can have it." He gestures to the book, a sweeping wave with a billowing dragon-patterned sleeve, and smiles. "I think I've already memorized the contents through my 26th reading."

Now Kuroko straightens in his seat, seemingly intrigued with his answer. He flips through the content and peers at Akashi curiously, through printed ink and dog-eared papers. "I'd like to accept your gracious gift, Akashi-sama, but..."

"But?" he presses on, eyebrows quirked. "What's stopping you, dear Tetsuya?"

"But I don't want to accept it because I'm scared of accidentally ruining it," Kuroko continues, casting a downhearted glance at the book. He fingers the yellowing pages like it's exquisite silk and shakes his head firmly. "This book looks precious to you. I can't accept something that you treasure." 

How considerate of his little concubine, taking care of Akashi's sentiments towards the book. 

Kuroko shouldn't be wasting his love for things like this. It's what makes people fall hopelessly in love with him in the first place. Like Kise who's bound in chains and Aomine who'll soon form fragile connections of his own. Anyone and everyone. Kuroko's attachment to things that others do not notice enraptures them. Perhaps it's because the boy himself is ephemeral like a ghost, he knows what it feels like to be unseen by others, disvalued, so he associates himself with objects that others have treated similarly. He becomes one with them, affiliated with their values, and he reads through others like how he reads through books. 

"You're just looking too much into it, Tetsuya," he chuckles, palming his cheek. "But you're right. It was something the late empress left for me, one of her favourite books. This was my very first reading book, and also the first gift I received from her." 

Kuroko stares at him incredulously. He obviously hasn't seen that coming. "It's a gift from your mother? Something difficult like this is your first reading book?" he echoes, holding up the battered copy. "I don't think anyone would be able to understand it at such a tender age."

"Back then, I didn't read it for understanding; I read it to develop my vocabulary and written understanding of the language," Akashi says, shrugging as though it's what toddlers do all the time. "She taught me the gist of it and I made through the rest on my own. It’s only after that I read through it again to gain appreciation of the story of the man and _Sensei_."

"That's more than enough reason why I can't take it from you, Akashi-sama," Kuroko reiterates, reaching over to deposit the book onto the redhead's lap. "I'll read it, but I'll find other copies of the book, and definitely not something that you treasure. But I appreciate your graciousness, Your Majesty," he says, rewarding the alpha male with a small but sincere smile, "because I think I'm running out of reading materials. I'll tell Kise-san to run to the archives sometime soon to search for this then."

Akashi laughs—yes, it's sincere, yes, it's heartfelt, and _yes_ , Kuroko's abysmally flawless in every single angle, an uncut diamond unearthed in his palace grounds. "If you can't find it in the archives, do remember not to show up on my doorstep after rejecting my offer, Tetsuya," he warns teasingly, "or else, I'll banish you to foreign lands."

"Over a book, Your Majesty?" Kuroko says, dubious. "That's not a reasonably diplomatic action."

"It is, once you know how to phrase your words. I'll be sure to send Ryōta along with you, he'll keep you company."

The teen blanches, obviously disgruntled. "On second thought, please keep him here. Just exile me alone, Akashi-sama."

It's strange, but he finds himself chuckling alongside Kuroko at the thought of separating the two of them forever. Ryōta will be heartbroken and crushed beyond belief, perhaps even refusing to function as a normal man any longer, and once that happens, Akashi supposes he'll be adequately disposed of. The timing approaches them closer than ever. And speaking of which—

"For how long will Ryōta keep you hidden from others, Tetsuya?" asks Akashi, leaning into his chair comfortably as Kuroko mirrors his posture, his body unconsciously seeking approval from him. "I don't suppose he'll be able to pull that off for long."

"Kise-san is determined to keep me away from others, maybe until they've stopped talking about my return," Kuroko says decisively, brows creasing at the memory. "And I think I know what's keeping him on the edge."

"Oh?" Akashi hums and drums his fingers against the table top softly. "And, pray tell Tetsuya, what's your theory?"

Kuroko raises his feathery head and stares at him mulishly with those pastel blue eyes of his and Akashi's reminded of cornflowers as he inspects the tensed boy. For a moment, his concubine is strangely quiet, as though he'd like to say something, and the redhead isn't foolish enough not to recognize the faint look crossing Kuroko's face. It's the look of discomfort and anxiety— _fear_. Despite Kuroko's lack of emotions, Akashi's perceptive enough to catch the creased lines at the corners of Kuroko's eyes, from the way he worries his bottom lip with bite marks to the way his fingers seem to fiddle with nothing but complete thin air.

But it's all right.

Gold is not the only thing that Akashi is wealthy with; time is all his in the palace grounds, and even if Kuroko takes an hour to answer, then an hour he would wait.

"I think," the boy tries after a minute of contemplation, all breathy and furrowed brows, "Kise-san is worried that other concubines would be jealous." 

Ah. 

Jealousy.

One of the seven sins of humankind. 

Envious of other concubines who fare better than them, the greed of wanting to be showered by precious jewels, and _lusting_ just to spend one more night with the emperor. Akashi is all too aware of the workings of his inner palaces, the strange politics that pit one omega against another while vying for his attention. Scrolls and books recording the empire's history have never mentioned of competitive concubines before, but everyone knows what little clawing darlings they are behind their angelically painted faces. Kuroko's words don't come as a surprise to Akashi at all, and he regards the teen with a cordial nod.

Then, he smiles. 

"Do you fear death in another's hand?"

And Kuroko's fingers slowly curl into a tight fist. He doesn't reply.

Catlike eyes narrow at the pleasurable sight as a blaze of warmth courses through his veins. The flash of determination that sparked in Kuroko's eyes is exquisite, a gratifying moment that Akashi relishes as his concubine unconsciously reacts to his words. Kuroko Tetsuya is different from the rest of the omegas that he has met before. While others seem to cower and kiss his feet as they seek his reverence, Kuroko is a dignified captive; he does not wish to be here, yet, he knows his place and treats everyone equally with respect—and that includes Akashi himself. 

There is no difference in treatment between a dirty servant and a holy emperor to Kuroko.

A long silence passes between them, punctuated by the shuddering leaves of the forest trees surrounding the manor, before the teen finally speaks up.

"I believe that if I spend more time with you, Akashi-sama, I'm only exposing myself to death more than I ever wanted," Kuroko replies haltingly, despite the evident razor layered in his words. "I have no intention of dying when I entered, but it's inevitable now. The more I spend time with you, the more threats I'll be likely to receive from other jealous concubines. And if I incite your anger, then I might incite death itself." He shrugs, tugging the corners of his lips into a thin smile. "It's very inevitable, Akashi-sama."

The explanation enlightening him, Akashi gracefully tilts his head to the side, blinking.

How frank of him to say so, as though he really doesn't fear provoking his own demise in the end.

While other members of his harem would willingly throw themselves in death's spotlight just for a moment's glory, Kuroko outwardly voices out his apparent dislike of attention, especially when it comes from the emperor himself. There have been instances of concubines plotting one another's death during his reign; some through cobweb delicate methods and others through cold-blooded homicide, but it's all just because their desire for him drove them to lunacy in the end. He's made a thorough job of dismissing the somewhat salvageable ones to Aomine because he's such a glutton for sex, while the rest were all properly disposed.

But the question here is: What should he do with Kuroko Tetsuya?

The little cowering thing hardly baits his wrath, and there certainly isn't any twinge of irritation underlying in his heart either.

Rather, Akashi's starting to indulge himself with Kuroko's company.

"If you feel so, then I will continue summoning you," the redhead surmises, tipping his head back. A glimpse of horror briefly flits past the other male's face and he's suddenly all too pale to be normal, and Akashi lets a little laugh fall from his lips. "You do not know how to give credit to yourself well enough, Tetsuya," he says, lips twisted into a sultry smile. "Nobody else takes notice of you, but that's all right. Consider yourself as one of my books." To demonstrate his point, he gingerly picks out one of Midorima's hardcover volumes and brushes his fingers over the gold foil letterings. "I'll take my time in admiring your cover, then I'll peruse your contents, page by page, line by line, _word_ by _word_. I'll consume your anecdotes to appreciate your history, then I'll possess your words and you'll become one with my world."

And then Kuroko rapidly gains colour for another reason all together as his cheeks flush and he gapes at Akashi as though he's spewing nonsense by the minute. 

As if challenging him, Akashi quirks an eyebrow and languidly leans his head against his palm. "Not everyone knows how to appreciate fine art like you, Tetsuya."

"But that does not change the fact that Kise-san is worried for my life, Akashi-sama," Kuroko carefully twists their conversation back onto track, even though his hesitance is somewhat amusing. He does not fight against Akashi's probing gaze, but he does stiffen in his seat and if that isn't endearing, then Akashi doesn't know what is. Clearing his throat to gain some bearing, the teen sighs and says, "We both came here to seek Midorima-san's assistance to solve the matter, but we didn't expect you to be here."

Akashi knows. 

He knows everything because he made Ryōta explain himself earlier, but he feigns silent ignorance just because it's too amusing to watch a temperately flustered Kuroko struggling to enlighten him. 

That and Akashi thinks the teen has a soft, quiet voice—something that he is quite fond of. That particular submissive streak in Kuroko is always tantalizing to begin with. 

"He'd like to apply for an increase in the number of guards, or so he says," Kuroko continues petulantly, lips pressed into a tight line of disproval, wholly unaware of Akashi's line of thoughts. "If this will make Kise-san feel that my life will be safeguarded, then I guess I'll agree with him." 

"Of course, it's understandable as to why he'd do that, since he is your bodyguard for now," Akashi nods sympathetically, even though there is really nothing sympathetic at all from the way he's smirking. Oh well, now that they've come to this, he figures he might as well inform his concubine of what had transpired earlier. It wouldn't do to have Kuroko unaware of his perilous predicament, absolutely not. Life is always _quite_ disheartening anyway. "But Tetsuya, there is something that I would like you to take note of. It's concerning Ryōta, if you're wondering."

When his concubine meets his eyes, he sees the ebbs of confusion and worry trembling within those dusty irises. 

Perfect, simply _perfect._

It's too perfect until Akashi can't help but to smile, a hint of teeth showing between his curved lips. 

"Ryōta almost took advantage of you when you were unconscious in his car," he innocently explains as though he's just reading out a book. A finger tracing idyllic scratches into the leather binding, Akashi lets a drip of silence fall between his words and says almost airily, "I was having a meeting with Shintarou when I caught your scent and his in the air—of course, his scent is stronger as he's closer to his heat, if you're wondering. I suspect he's forgotten all about it as he's been... _preoccupied_ with taking care of you."

He's not trying to pin the blame on his poor concubine, really, but Kise is a full-fledged and awfully hot-blooded alpha male wolf—when presented with a lamb like Kuroko, it's obvious enough that the teen would get devoured wholly. 

Whether it's with his consent or not, that's another thing altogether.

"Shintarou has been kind enough to provide him with some of his suppressants, but I would recommend you to take the utmost care when you're around him," Akashi continues, almost indulgent in his tone as though he's enjoying the striking fright surfacing in Kuroko's eyes. "You might not be familiar with upper-tier alphas like him and they can be violent when you resist their advance, even under medication. I'm concerned with your safety and well-being when you're with Ryōta during his heat. You know you'll be susceptible to his pheromones as well, so breathe shallowly when you're around him."

Kuroko's expression twists into something of disbelief, despite struggling to maintain his poise as he digests the information. By right, Kise should've been gutted alive for laying a hand on _his_ Tetsuya, but now isn't the right time, and surely Kuroko should be wondering why the blonde is still alive until now.

His concubine is a brilliant little thing, Akashi thinks, as he leans back and watches the inner conflict before his eyes. It's so easy to read how Kuroko is trying to internalize the fact that someone he trusted would easily succumb as a prey to lust, yet he's torn since a part of him still has some faith in the wolf. If Reo is here together with Akashi, he surely would've delighted in seeing the emotions run through Kuroko's face, but he supposes he'd have to retell it to the man later, and enjoy how frustrated he'd be at the narration. 

Of course, if Kuroko would plead for Akashi to provide him protection during Kise's heat, then he supposes he'd be magnanimous enough to provide for an extra room in his quarters. But that is if Kuroko pleads, and if he doesn't, well... that will not be his loss at all. It's all within his calculations. 

After a moment's silence, it's only then Kuroko speaks up again. But this time, he looks at Akashi squarely in the eyes and unhesitatingly slips on a smile. It's a small smile, really, but he's doing well to veil his mounting problems albeit the shivering chill in his blue eyes. 

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure that I'll be able to take care of myself during Kise-san's heat. I can be quite transparent when I slip off my anklets," he gently words his refusal, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "And thank you for not taking any _action_ against Kise-san's mistake, Akashi-sama. You're quite the generous emperor, despite everyone's warning."

Kuroko doesn't say it, oh he doesn’t, but Akashi knows that Kuroko's aware of the game he's playing.

And Akashi Seijūrō never turns down a good game, especially when he's never known of defeat. 

"Of course," he drawls, smirking, " _anything_ for my dear Tetsuya."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#12:** _"Don't do something you'll regret," is what Kuroko manages to warn before he places his palms flat against Kise's chest, trying to squirm away from his invasive touch. But it's no use—Kise's got this covered, he expertly manoeuvres Kuroko until the teen's back is pressed against his chest and his wrists are held together in one of Kise's hand, and at times like this, the blonde's glad that he's got combat training to manhandle someone. Then slowly, almost painstakingly on purpose, he bends Kuroko into half and lowers him onto the ground on his knees, like what he's promised._


	12. you know what they say about me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! ;u; as usual, thank you for all your kudos and comments, they're truly appreciated! i hope i've replied to everything~ with thanks to darling leporicide for reading it through for me!
> 
> and um i'm just gonna leave this chapter right here, because it's practically what everyone's been waiting for. /rolls away

Kise's kept his distance. 

While he does attend to Kuroko's needs, he avoids all physical contact. It's as though he's never grabbed the teen's shoulder or even cried into his lap before. Kise bows and keeps his eyes lowered, lower than Kuroko's torso, stays at least two meters away from his charge, and breathes shallowly whenever Kuroko moves about in his palace. He talks, yes he does talk, but it lacks the shrill happiness that oozes in his voice, and everything that falls from his lips are just empty words in the end.

At different intervals, Kuroko catches Kise popping in a caplet into his mouth and just swallowing it dry. 

Sometimes it's only one, at other times when Kise's golden irises blaze with a surge of wild craving and his pupils dilate into narrow slits as though someone shone a light on him, he sharply exhales and takes two instead. Screeching sounds grate Kuroko's ears like fingernails against a chalkboard, and from the corners of his eyes, he spots Kise extending his claws and scratching idle circles against the polished vanity, licking his lips and edgily fidgeting in the corner.

Kise's self-control must be something akin to chains and collars that pin him down in place, even without the aid of the medication that Midorima's given him. 

Kuroko's seen a lust-stricken alpha before, and the thought of him actually being the object of Kise's arousal is rather terrifying than gratifying. Hot flushes crawl up from the blonde's neck to his cheeks and his collarbones are taut with restraint, even when he eyes Kuroko in a way that is utterly less than decent. In Kuroko's high school years, he's witnessed hungry alphas rutting against betas in the store rooms—saliva oozing, biting down on their partners, claws slashing scarlet marks down muscled backs, and that's all it took for Kuroko to hightail out of there. Being particularly invisible, it isn't hard for him to chance upon those happenings whenever he walks through the hallways. 

But now, it's different since he can't hide.

The stronger the bond between an alpha and an omega, the harder it is to resist the urge.

"It's time for your bath, Kuroko-sama!" Fuyutsuki sings as she prances into the room—and then she freezes in place, picks up on the unhealthy sexual tension contained in the room, and her cat tail flexes. "Um... I can come back later if you want, really."

Kuroko sets down his book and throws a glance at his feline servant. 

The clock hanging above the door reads 8.45 p.m.. He had his dinner earlier—baked salmon, some pasta, assortment of vegetables that resembled more like a Western dish for the day—and to pass his time, he's fished out some books from the drawers of many tables in his pavilion in hopes that one of it might be Sōseki's Kokoro. Sadly, it's all for naught, and he winds up with a magazine of housing landscapes. Anything is good enough for a distraction when Kuroko can feel Kise's stare pricking the lenient curve of his back, practically placing pins on every indent of his spine when his breathing quickens in pace before dwindling down into reticent grunts—so animalistic, so desperate, so _lewd_ in its very nature.

Professionally distant, Kuroko does nothing but to stow away the book and rises from his seat to acknowledge his maid. 

"I understand. I'll be there in a while, please give me a minute."

"Of course, of course," she acquiesced with her ears pinned flat against her hair and her tail bristling softly. "I'll be right in the bathroom with the other girls, Kuroko-sama. Err," she pauses, eyes flitting seamlessly from the teen to the model, and nods almost anxiously, "p-please be sure to hurry up then! I'd hate to make you bathe in cold water!"

Kuroko isn't even given enough time to reply as Fuyutsuki up and disappears from his sight with a quick slam of the door. 

Despairingly obvious retreat from her, though it's completely understandable why. Kise's an arresting beauty for a good reason and people are already frantic enough to be with him even when he's downright uninterested; now that he's in heat, any beta would be helplessly enamoured and he might just be gracious enough to use them. Killing two birds with one stone is the motive; Kise gets to vent his sexual frustration, and they get a chance with the alpha wolf. They're too transparent until Kuroko could read his maids' subtle body language, from the furtive looks they trade with one another, to the sultry sway of their hips as they gait along the hallways today. Needless to say, Fuyutsuki isn't the only one needy for a one night stand with Kise Ryōta. Kuroko's seen all sorts of things today until it ceased to surprise him, and even the most decent of felines licked her fangs when they passed by earlier.

With Fuyutsuki's disappearance, the concubine takes a moment to consider his circumstances.

By now, Kise would usually leap into action and offer a hand in undressing Kuroko. But today's obviously an exception to that rule.

He eyes how Kise stands closely by the window as though he'd be able to escape with a dramatic crash if the aching needs overpower him, and notes the scrunched fist sitting inside the pocket of his trousers. Right leg restless, the blonde's tapping it softly against the crimson carpeting. Noticeable creases are on his navy blazer today and he hasn't bothered with straightening them out either, and that's a tell-tale sign he's off his usual tangent. A few seconds into Kuroko's hard staring has him rolling out harsh, staggering pants, and he eliminates all eye-contact even though that's his job. 

Oh. So that's how it is.

After a moment, Kuroko makes his decision.

"Kise-san, aren't you going to undress me?"

Nothing provocative in his undertones, but the low growl from Kise says otherwise.

"I'll have to warn you, Kuroko-sama, I'm not responsible if anything happens when you provoke me like this," he warns tightly, and his eyes are too bright in the dim light. A step forward, yet another step forward, and his footfalls are as weighty as the thoughts bubbling in Kuroko's head. Fingers raking through his golden tresses, he stands in front of the teen and looks down on him with an agonizing fixation that teeters beyond the line of a servant and a master. "Are you sure you want me to help _undress_ you? When I'm like this?"

Kise's obviously not in his right state of mind.

But that's okay.

Kuroko's not that sane either.

"Kise-san is my bodyguard. Of course I'll trust you." Kuroko begins tugging at the woven string of his obi belt, perfectly at ease with his words. "I have faith in your restraint."

Because nobody is ever fully sane inside the imperial grounds anyway.

* * *

Kuroko Tetsuya is a porcelain creature. 

He's gaunt, provisionally plain like the fleeting shadows crossing the dusky sky, and his skin is stretched thin until the faintest change in temperature webs it with warm pink veins. There's nothing attractive about him, but _that's_ entirely attractive on its own. Kuroko's a demon child under his skin, ripe for picking and pinching, just hiding for the right moment to metamorphose into the succubus in his blood. And even in his coarsely painted stage, he's unlike any other trite omega, just the sole nymph in the garden of whores. 

Kise's only task is to undress Kuroko, something that's entirely simplistic in its nature and he's done this before, but every square inch of his will strains under the urge to claw the fabric to bits and just to bite Kuroko's pale neck, the primal urge to mark Kuroko so that nobody ever dares to lay a hand on him. 

"Hurry up, Kise-san," Kuroko says, and he begins to shrug the kimono off his shoulders like he isn't doing anything particularly criminal. He has to be completely aware of what he's doing—there's no way he doesn’t know of the consequences when purposely provoking an alpha in heat. Didn't he hear about the news of lust-ridden alphas who took it too far and ended up raping the betas? 

It's not a game to Kise, but it seems that way to Kuroko instead.

"Kise-san? Are you listening?"

Kise's already groaning; he yearns to haul the concubine to the bed and throw him onto the mattress, and Kuroko's only regarding him like he's a sulking child. The crushingly submissive scent assaults his senses and the air around him feels heady, catching him by the throat and suffocating him with a tight grip. What should he do when all he wants is to give in to the viler urge to grip Kuroko by his wrists, pin him down on the floor and grind against him just to wrench little gasps from his lips? His fingers shake with the amount of control he's exerting on his limbs so that he doesn't end up accidentally pulling Kuroko flush against his body, chest to chest, thigh nestled between Kuroko's legs, just meshing their lips together.

He can't do this. 

He can't do this without doing something that he'll regret.

"K-Kuroko-sama," Kise starts, falling a few steps backwards and exhaling sharply through his nose as those pure, awfully pure and untainted blue eyes observed him levelly underneath fanned lashes. "Please leave this room. Just get out while I still can control myself. _Please_ ," he begs, choking on his words when Kuroko disregards his words and manages to untie the intricate knots holding his coral obi pendant, letting the rope fall onto the floor soundlessly. " _Please_ get out before I use the rope to spread your arms and legs on the bedposts, Kuroko-sama—"

"But didn't you take your suppressants?" Kuroko answers, blank and impassive to his pleading. "You can overcome this, Kise-san, that's why Midorima-san hasn't kept you away from me yet."

"No—" he's the one whining now, thin and high, almost at a breaking point as his hand drops to his crotch and he palms the growing hardness. His ears twitch with every hard nudge and he's almost tempted to get his tail to help. There's no sense of shame, he can touch himself in front of Kuroko, supplied by the erratic flickers of his lily neckline, lean calves, and bitingly thin collarbones. "They're not going to help if— _if_ you keep undressing yourself, Kuroko-sama—"

"But Kise-san has always undressed me, so I'm still waiting," the concubine insists airily, as though the thought of being in a room with a heat-stricken alpha wolf doesn't intimidate him to his bones. "You swore to give me your servitude, so you'll have to perform despite any circumstances."

"Servitude—right, right," Kise scoffs sardonically with a shake of his head, rolling his eyes and clenching his fist so tightly until his nails leave crescent imprints into his palm. "But if I not-so accidentally slam you against the wall, what'll you do?"

A pause.

Kuroko's eyes flit to meet his in a fraction of second.

Then he breaks the eye-contact and continues fussing over the complicated fashion of his kimono.

"You won't, Kise-san. Because I believe in you since you always wanted the best for me."

And the best of Kuroko that he wants right now is probably bent over on the bed with his face pressed into the mattress while Kise fucks him raw.

It's unbelievable why Kuroko would put such an immense amount of faith into his restraint when he knows how reedy it's getting with each passing second. Just like the other day when he's cornered Kuroko into the chair in the dressing room and showed him the terrible visage of the monster he is, Kuroko's still nonchalantly treating him like how he would any other day. His finger hooks underneath the thick brocade of his obi and pries it away in an effort to get it off, yet it doesn't look like he'll succeed anytime soon—what other chance would Kise get to have him pressed against his body other than tonight? 

The realization's got him panting, almost salivating, and his cock twitches at the thought.

As if goading Kise further, by some miraculously divine intervention, Kuroko manages to loosen the obi constricting his girlish frame and it cascades onto the carpeting in layers. The neckline slips smoothly from its spot, gradually unveiling creamier skin that's just as pale as Kuroko's inner thighs, and something in Kise snaps. He doesn't know what it is—suddenly, everything's all too clear in his head, incredibly sharp and piercing, and his vision centres on Kuroko, Kuroko Tetsuya, Kuroko Tetsuya the concubine, Kuroko Tetsuya who's calmly undressing himself in his room, Kuroko Tetsuya who is inviting himself to be debauched, Kuroko Tetsuya who's his and _his_ harlot only. 

In three quick strides Kise's already in Kuroko's personal space again; he hears the sharp intake of breath, he picks up how his heart races with the sudden development, he smells the sweat oozing from Kuroko's neck at his intrusion, and the _fear_ that rolls off from Kuroko in waves just gets his adrenaline pumping because an alpha and an omega—a predator and a very pliant, very willing prey. 

He wants to make Kuroko _submit_ to him.

And nobody's around because the maids are all waiting for them in the bathroom, far, far away.

Kise leans downwards; he doesn't care about rules anymore when his lips are already brushing against the shell of Kuroko's ear. 

"Kuroko _cchi_ , I'm really glad that you believe in me..." he trails off, his fingertips just ghosting over Kuroko's back, playing with the trailing obi tangled by Kuroko's feet. "...but I can think of three different positions we can do this now. What'll it be? I'll let you pick for your first time."

Kuroko's throat bobs.

Kise's stifles a groan in his throat at the sight.

"Rethink your choices, Kise-san," Kuroko breathes, shallow and steady but his rapidly racing heart betrays him like a hummingbird's wings; "you can either address me Kuroko-sama or Kuroko-kun, but _not_ Kurokocchi. I don't like nicknames."

"That's what you're worried about?" Kise bleakly laughs and it falls into a purr as he buries his nose in Kuroko's hair, dropping lower and lower, his lips mouthing words against the sticky skin on Kuroko's nape. "Come on, Kurokocchi," he coaxes, a hand already planting a firm grip on Kuroko's ass as he presses his clothed cock against the side of Kuroko's body, utterly unabashed and wholly enjoying how he freezes in his grasp. "We all know that's not the real problem here. If you don't answer me, I'll probably just have you on all fours on the floor."

He's getting more desperate.

He might even start rutting against Kuroko if all else fails.

"Don't do something you'll regret," is what Kuroko manages to warn before he places his palms flat against Kise's chest, trying to squirm away from his invasive touch. But it's no use—Kise's got this covered, he expertly manoeuvres Kuroko until the teen's back is pressed against his chest and his wrists are held together in one of Kise's hand, and at times like this the blonde's glad that he's got combat training to manhandle someone. Then slowly, almost painstakingly on purpose, he bends Kuroko into half and lowers him onto the ground on his knees, like what he's promised. 

This is bad. 

Kise enjoys the sheer terror that's reflected in Kuroko's fitful breathing, enjoys how the frail concubine's almost shivering underneath his administered strength, enjoys how submissive omegas can get when they're affected by a sex-driven alpha in heat.

Kuroko can't lie. 

Even though his talented tongue is wasted on spewing trickeries and threats instead of sucking Kise's cock, his body can't hide.

Hardwired into an omega's brain is the primal urge to obey, to yield to the stronger tiers, to an alpha who pines for his body. He could deny it for all he wants, but most omegas barely control the biological functions of their body simply because it's hard to make sense when every single nerve wants nothing but to get chained down by the unforgiving alpha that'll bite and mark them as playthings, as soul mates, as lovers. When Kuroko starts to breathe shallowly through his mouth, starts to heave and choke, that's when his trembling eventually die out. 

He's submitting to his baser needs as an omega.

Kise could breathe in the arousal slowly engulfing the boy. 

His ears pricked forward when his tail teasingly caress Kuroko's exposed calves, picking up on how he's clamping down on any noise that threatens to burst, and his heart swells with forbidding mania to provoke more responses from him. There's nothing left to stop them now that Kuroko's succumbing to lust, already mired by the poisonous laces twining his sanity, and he drops his forehead to the ground. 

For a moment there, Kuroko doesn't move from the spot. 

He's just breathing harshly, as though he's the one stabbed by Kise's words. And then the excruciating agony makes him writhe on the ground, he turns and Kise's golden eyes widen as he takes in the exquisite flush drowning the paleness of Kuroko's skin. His glassy eyes water with unshed tears and one hand is grasping the cloth on his chest with a death grip until his knuckles are deathly white, while the other is—

_No._

Kise gulps, his mouth dry. 

Kuroko's other hand tries desperately to hide the bulge tenting the kimono between his legs, but Kise could still see how Kuroko's fighting not to put any pressure on the problem. He's gulping for air, just sucking in deep breaths through his nose, and every sound he releases is indecent, just muted whines and gasps. Kise's head spins, the world is a whirlwind of smeared colours in his vision, and the pungent scent of Kuroko's arousal assaults his brain, addling him. There's just something about Kuroko that makes him itch; Kuroko's helplessly turned on because of him, he's already affected by Kise's arousal, and to see the usually distant Kuroko writhing about because every inch of his skin burns for pleasure—

"Please, Kise-san—" he groans, hoarse, and Kise's suddenly all too aware of his painfully hard cock straining against his slacks as he eyes a spot of moist fabric on Kuroko's kimono. "—this can't—"

The fine hairs on Kise's neck stood and the sound of his blood rushing drowns out everything else in the world as he's already prowling over the concubine, and he hungrily presses his mouth over the sticky outline of Kuroko's cock.

"Kise-san—!"

Hands, Kuroko's soft little hands, grip his hair tightly and the pain shoots straight to his scalp, but Kise's already thrown everything else to the back of his head. Logic be damned, if Kuroko's needlessly aroused because of him, he'll take responsibility for it. He won't force himself on Kuroko, he won't bite the boy and make him his, he won't let Kuroko inherit his wolfish traits even though he _wants_ to, but the least he could do is to help Kuroko out of his thirsting hunger. And his own too. Kise mouths the fabric and wets it with suckling kisses, pressing down on Kuroko's thrashing because he's so sensitive all over, and his own neglected cock twitches at the lewd noises Kuroko's making. 

Dirty, they're drowning in their dirty impulses. 

Kise knows he can't see how Kuroko's throwing his head back, relishing this filthy liaison between them, but he could just imagine how those pink lips would be parted and Kuroko's lashes fluttering at the intense pleasure flooding his senses, and knowing that he's the first one to put his hands on Kuroko just gets his blood boiling. Parting the kimono and exposing the expanse of Kuroko's heated skin, Kise's ears twitch as he hears the rapid thrum of Kuroko's heart, and he hooks a finger underneath the waistband of Kuroko's underwear to slip them off his ankles. Kuroko's cock is a sore pink, so hard and sticky with pre cum oozing from the slit, and Kise strangles a low growl in his throat as he reaches down to unzip his slacks and push them down.

He grips his aching cock and straddles Kuroko's hips, gripping them both in a tight fist. 

"Kurokocchi, Kurokocchi, _Kurokocchi,_ " he breathes the prayer repeatedly; that's all he can say when he's so whipped, and Kuroko finally opens his eyes to gaze at him hazily through cloudy eyes, a hand pressed to his forehead like he's nursing a fever that only Kise can cure. The teen doesn't utter a word, he just makes incoherent keening sounds in his throat that encourages Kise to take this further, and he knows he can't resist this anymore. 

It's too late. 

With a brutal twist of his hand, Kise tugs their cocks together and the yelp that Kuroko makes is utterly stimulating as his thin hips buck to keep up with the fast pace. With every flick of his wrist, fingers skimming down to thumb Kuroko’s prostate under his balls, watching how the electric jolt blazes through and makes Kuroko breathlessly whine, Kise’s head spins from the overload of sensation. 

His fingers are sticky with their fluids and Kise knows he can't hold it in anymore because the faces that Kuroko makes are just forbiddingly erotic with his brows furrowed and lips parted and oh so drowning in pleasure when Kise strokes him just right. His cock convulses, leaking more pre cum and he smears the droplet over their heads, and Kuroko's pleading with his hand outstretched—

"—Kise-san, _please_ —"

His other hand caresses Kuroko's cheek and leaves scarlet smudges in its wake, gripping the back of his head to bring him up. Kise angles his face, eyes taking in the sharp tone of the radiant details, how Kuroko's spotless purity is specked with wretchedness, and _woah_ Kuroko's clawing at his chest to draw up his torso. Hot breath fans over his lips, a minute that splinters into fragmented seconds when Kuroko tips his head and presses against Kise's lips messily in an inexperienced kiss, and who's Kise to refuse when it's all he ever wanted? Tongue licking against Kuroko's bottom lip and he takes him deep, licking up his soft palate and hissing at the sharp feel of Kuroko's feeble jerks in his hand. 

It's an erotic dance when all of Kise's tainting Kuroko with his dirty touch, the redness streaks across his face and blue locks, and Kuroko's eyes water at the tormenting need to come. They part with a string of saliva connecting their lips, cutoff gasps in sync with haggard gasps, and Kise's already diving for more kisses, pillaging the emperor's rightful claim. His tongue darts to trace the seam of Kuroko's lips, sticky trails from his mouth to his ear, teeth grazing against earlobes and tugging at the soft flesh to milk a moan, and they fall to pave prayers on Kuroko's neck, each lick and kiss a mark of his devotion to the omega. 

When Kuroko's mouthing, "Kise-san, I'm _close_ ," in that perfectly titillating whine with honey on his lips, Kise pulls away and his hand quickens its pace. More keening moans warms his ear as Kuroko bends into his embrace, a shuddering mess, edging closer and closer to the edge with Kise's ministrations. He toys with the slit of Kuroko's cock, squeezing tight, and that's all it takes for the concubine to arch his spine with a little cry as he comes undone in Kise's arms. 

Kise closes his eyes at the debauched sight of Kuroko's spit-slicked lips as he brings their mouth together to savour the exquisite taste of their ecstasy, tongues tangling and swallowing moans. He gently milks Kuroko out of his orgasm until he's fully spent, the cum streaking over his suit and hands, and even though his cock is still hard and waiting for release, he inhales deeply as he runs his hand over Kuroko's back, soothing him. It's often tiring to come that hard, he's sure of it, and there's a certain degree of exhaustion in how Kuroko's panting harshly, his forehead pressed on Kise's broad shoulder. 

It's uncomfortable how he’s so close but so far with his own release and Kise wants to come but he can't, so he gulps and loosens his grip on their cocks. It’s over. He's brought Kuroko out of misery and gave him what he needed because it's Kise's own fault. He’ll take his shameful self back to the bathroom, closet, whatever enclosed space that’s nearby, and he’ll gladly administer his own poison tonight.

But then Kuroko's hand quickly covers his own.

"... this is payback, Kise-san," Kuroko murmurs into his blazer, muffled, and then he earnestly begins to jerk Kise off with a desperate eagerness to _please._

The intensity of it all catches him off guard and Kise chokes at the feeling of a different hand on his painfully engorged cock, just clumsy and new and trying to cover everything with a small grasp, and he buries his face in Kuroko's hair as he comes hard, spurting over the silks and beads. He can't even begin to think of breathing when he's pretty much spent, a winded wreck, and he joins Kuroko's panting as he feels the little hand slowly easing him from his high before stopping. A quiet, still sort of silence follows by without either of them talking, and fatigue sets in his bones as he slumps against Kuroko weakly. There are so many things that run in his head, so many unspoken words, so many sordid details, so many warnings flashing before his future, and all he could do is to chuckle weakly at his mistake. 

It’s _over._

This is his first and last time with his—

"Just so you know, Kise-san..." Kuroko says, breaking the silence and lifting his head, but the lies paint his cheeks in sweeping pinks as he struggles to maintain his composure. "I have something to tell you."

Kise stares into those dazzling blue eyes, the bluest of skies reflected in those mirrors, at a loss.

And then Kuroko's lips curve into a smile, always the forgiving smile, always sacrificing himself, always _his._

"I'll never tell anyone about this. I don't want to lose you."

That's crazy logic.

"It is, isn't it?" Kuroko droops into his arms again, throaty, and Kise must've spoken it out loud in his exhaustion from coming so hard until he's sure the lasts of his intelligence came out too. "But I pushed you, and it's my fault. Honestly," _honestly_ Kuroko's too coherent after something like that happening to him, "I don't want you to get into trouble because of me." A yawn breaks his sentence and Kuroko shifts slightly to rub his eyes, pinching his brows together. "But I didn't think it'll come to this point."

That's really crazy.

Kise's head reels from it all. He's pretty sure he's running his mouth again with how he babbles, "But, but, but Kurokocchi, _I_ was the one in heat and you're the victim and I took advantage of you—" in a few miliseconds, but Kuroko head-butts his chin to shut him up effectively.

"Please listen to me, Kise-san," he murmurs sleepily, biting on another yawn and rolling out his words longer now. "Akashi-sama will get you sooner or later, no matter what you do. I'm sure of it." He pauses, peering at the mess they made on each other, and grimaces like it's blood. "But for now, we need to clean this up. Nobody can know about it. If they figure out what happened, I think I'll lose someone important to me. Not now. Now is too crucial for anything else to happen."

He doesn't need to mention names, but the telltale tightening of his fingers on Kise's back says everything.

But it's just not right. Kise's at fault, not him. Kuroko's just too stubborn to look at it closely, and Kise's not sure if he's got the articulacy needed to convey his thoughts. What should he say when he's the one who screwed up everything just because he can't keep it in his pants? He's a disgrace, especially when Midorima and Akashi both trusted him enough to be around Kuroko even when he's a lusting pervert, and just acting on his impulses is unspeakable. Yet, the concubine doesn't seem to mind it at all. He believed in him, even when nobody else did. By the way things are going, he's just contentedly lying in their post-orgasm bliss and enjoying how Kise's tail twitches every second, lustrous fur brushing against smooth calves. 

They're just happy together. 

When they're not supposed to.

"Hey, Kurokocchi...?"

A lull hits their conversation. He can tell the other's tired.

"What is it, Kise-san?" he finally answers, exhaling softly, smelling of crushed daisies and sweaty musk. "Do you want to go and bathe?"

He shakes his head. "No." He's got to set things straight. His head is clear and sharp, like the heat is just a wake-up call for him to get his act together, and he'd be damned if he doesn't grab the chance. Arms sneaking up just to wrap around Kuroko's body, he pulls the other into his lap and rests his chin on Kuroko's shoulder. "I need to tell you something. Just hear me out, okay?"

A pause.

He can feel a nod coming from the small omega.

"If you say so, Kise-san."

Kuroko still believes in him. 

And it hurts.

"I just want you to know that I don't care about whatever's the right argument right now," he whispers, almost inaudible like a breath of air, but it rings piercingly in the dense silence of the room. Kuroko doesn't reply. He's still hunched over, heated palms pressed onto his back. "But I know what I want is to have you—to love you. I'm not matured enough like an adult to hold down my instincts and show my affections with logic," he shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut. "I'm impulsive. But I want you to know that I love you, Kurokocchi, even when this isn't supposed to be happening."

It's futile, trying to reach out to someone who's already Akashi's property, but this is his only chance.

He sank his fangs into the fruit of Eden and chewed off more than just a bite. 

"I'm so in love with you, Kurokocchi. So much." Fingers bunch into the silks and Kise shudders at the feel of his own words falling from his mouth, the careless confessions of a delirious bodyguard. "I didn't think you'd survive this palace because I thought you're just one of those selfish omegas in the palace." The pain lances through his trachea and he chokes on an empty laugh, shaking his head. "I know there're other omegas and betas who want just one night with me, Kurokocchi, but they're not what I want." He grips Kuroko's thighs and squeezes them softly. " _You're_ the one I want, but you told me off. You made me see my priorities. You made me think. You put up with me like we're friends even when we're not, even when I'm supposed to be more mature than you."

He takes a chance.

With a soft kiss pressed on Kuroko's temple, Kise's lips brush lower and lower to his cheek, nuzzling affectionately. 

"And you're the first one to put your faith in me, even though we don't know each other so well. Midorimacchi and Akashicchi and Aominecchi and just about _everyone_ thinks I'm unreliable, but you still stick by my side. You stood up for me even when I do horrible things to you." Horrible, horrible things like goading him and coaxing him to have sex at the risk of a head chop. "And because of all that, it's just so hard for me not to love you like this."

There. 

He's said it all.

Now it's just up to Kuroko to do whatever he wants with that information.

"But Kise-san isn't unreliable to me."

What?

"You're whimsical and childish," Kuroko says, and he buries his face in Kise's shoulder, "but you've done a good job taking care of me for almost a month now. So please, believe in yourself a little, just like how I believe in you. I'm sure it'll work out, somehow. We just have to think a bit harder together now that it's finally come to this."

_What?_

"But Kurokocchi—"

"No buts, Kise-san," he firmly reprimands the other, thumping his head on Kise's chest softly. "My life will be even more unpredictable with how Akashi-sama is putting his pawns into place like the whole city's his chessboard. Before this, I don't have anyone else here. But now," his fingers curl into Kise's shirt, "weren't you the one who said that I was wrong, and I now have you?"

He sputters unintelligibly. "D-Don't use my words against me!"

It makes Kuroko chuckle, if anything.

"I'm sorry, Kise-san. But please," he pulls apart, blue eyes meeting gold, and his soft expression is a sumie painting, " _please_ lend me your strength. I was the shadow, and you are the light. But at the same time, because of my status as an omega, I'm gradually becoming a light myself. So Kise-san, you'll have to be my shadow, because you'll support me in this city. Won't you?"

It's crazy. He's crazy. They're both crazy. But that's okay.

Nobody's ever fully sane in the imperial grounds anyway. 

"You have my word," Kise nods, reaching behind him to pry one of Kuroko's hand off his back and gently lacing their fingers together, bringing their hands in front of his face. It's cheesy, it's downright corny how he kisses the back of Kuroko's hand and brushes his lips over each dip of his knuckle, but it's the only way he can let Kuroko know of his devotion, of his love. He only has words to offer. "Even if I'm going against Akashicchi, I won't mind if it's for you, Kurokocchi."

He's not the smartest poet like Midorima, or an eloquent snake like Akashi, but something lights up in the boy's eyes, a blue flame lit up by gaseous wisps of determination and wilfulness, and white dots glaze the translucent surface like shining stars in the galaxy. Kise's never seen anything like it, never seen anyone with such pure lustre emanating from the core of their body. It's like watching an unfurling cosmosphere inside his eyes, enveloping his pupils and unveiling the secrets of the universe to him, and the most brilliant of smiles blossom on Kuroko's lips.

"Thank you, Kise-san."

How can he say no to the one he loved the most?

"You're welcome, Kurokocchi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#13:** _“Yes, well,” she apologetically bows, straightening her salmon pink apron with growing nervousness, “I've just received word that not only Midorima-sama will be dropping by, even Aomine-sama and Satsuki-sama—and,” she gulps, trying on a shaky smile, “we’ve also been told to prepare you for His Majesty Akashi Seijūrō’s arrival. Please, anytime you’re ready, we’ll receive you in the bathroom as usual.”_


	13. it's only love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i'm rather sad to say that it might take me a longer while to update. this is because a) i want to get their characterization correct and i mull over these things a lot as i do want to try to portray them as accurately as possible, b) plot is happening and i don’t want to screw up the plot, and c) my classes will be crazy this semester (you can read about it **[{here}](http://strangulated-harlot.tumblr.com/post/88474143110/judging-from-how-my-semester-is-panned-out-im)** ). _
> 
> _also, for this chapter, shoutout to **[akai-anna](http://akai-anna.tumblr.com)** for being the beta-reader! ;u; very touched, thanks for being the first to offer and able to give feedback in such a short amount of time, and for staying up to do this. _
> 
> _can't forget to say many thanks to you readers who read, comment, message, leave kudos, and bookmarked this work! i kind of feel dazed looking at the amount, really. @_@;; really dazed. feels like i'm dreaming. at the same time, i'm really super glad that everyone likes how this plot is happening. :'D without everyone's support, i won't be able to write future chapters, so thank you once again! if there is anything you'd like to point out for me to correct, please do so. i still have many things i need to learn about akakuro and writing in general._
> 
> _finally, only this chapter has a new preview style because multiple things are happening in the next chapter, and i just kind of want to leave them there. 13 is like the filler chapter for 14, because 13 has new characters and inane things happening, while 14 has... well, plenty of things. ikr, very helpful._
> 
> _so, enjoy!_

Should he regret?

He's been reckless with his recent course of actions—not that it stopped him before. Three years ago, chasing his dreams to become part of a strong basketball team, Kuroko enrolled himself into Teikō Middle School, where a highly distinguished society of powerful alphas constantly brought victory after victory to polish their school's name. He practiced until he vomited in the buckets, bruised his limbs trying to compete against solid males who have reached their inheritances earlier, and tried to make a name for himself in the crowd. But he only made it to the third string; nobody ever picked him up or took the time to swim into his depth. Kuroko still remembers the deep etches on the faces of the second string, how they shook with laughter when he stated that he'd like to get into their group if he's given a chance. 

No one looked his way, not that they ever noticed his presence anyway. 

But that's okay.

Being degraded as a useless shadow, Kuroko learned to use it as a cover that he slips into like a second skin. On Tuesdays, whenever he used to take out the garbage, he passed by a group of smokers who claimed the area near the incinerator as part of their territory. From there, Kuroko got his weekly gossips. One thing he learned was that _'late bloomers'_ , a crude slang used to mock those without an inheritance, were treated as ragdolls. Weak. Disgusting. Inane. Some of the basketball seniors also joined in for a cancer stick or two, sometimes chortling about how a kid suddenly showed up at practice, asking to join the second string—pathetic, he snorts through a mouthful of grey wisps—and jokes that if the kid was an omega and would suck his cock, then he'll get in. 

Standing in the shadows, all Kuroko did was to blend with his surroundings and fade away. 

Seven weeks into the ritual, he learned to tune out their words too.

Only Ogiwara Shigero remained a constant pillar of support in his life, messaging him not to give up. 

So he didn't.

Even if Kuroko's life is on the tip of a needle with how he's teetering on the edge, he'll make the most of it before his time is up. 

Kise, on the other hand, probably believes in true love that wins through all adversity. But Kuroko's got bigger plans ahead of him. He can't possibly stop now, nor does he plan to die so soon. For the time being, they've both burnt the starting proof of their consummation in the backyard near the forest depths, and none of the maids questioned the puffs of smoke that enveloped the sickly skies last night. It's a weak core to solidify their foundation, but at least it's a start. It's the start of something that Kuroko's doing for _himself_ in this city.

"We'll make it together to the top, Kurokocchi," Kise whispered to him, golden eyes glowing red in front of the crackling fire. His hand weakly sought Kuroko's, twining their fingers together, calluses against slender ones, and he brought them to his lips, kissing the dip of Kuroko's knuckles softly. "You've got me, so use me. I'll make you reach Akashicchi's side, and you'll become the Grand Empress."

His throat welled up. 

It's wrong, but everything's wrong in this city. 

"Kise-san, you shouldn't look too pleased if someone is going to use you."

Someone needs to correct it.

Someone like him.

"Don't look at me like that, Kurokocchi, you make me want to kiss you," the wolf laughed, low, as his lashes curtained his eyes. The sticky darkness clung to his face like eerie shadows and crimson highlights specked his skin. "I don't mind being used—that's what I'm for. If I can help Kurokocchi in any way I can, I _want_ to do it. I know you can't think about returning my feelings now, but don't worry about it. I'll wait for you—I'll wait until you're free to do what you want. So please, don't look at me with those guilty eyes, okay?"

Kise's words rang in Kuroko's ears right until the dawn that breaks through the starry night skies. 

That morning, Kuroko sits in the courtyard all by himself as the maids all bustled around him. No doubt Kise's asked them to scrub his room clean, so they've got no choice but to heft around buckets of water and detergents to exfoliate their smell out of the room. Perhaps they know of the filthy liaison between them, perhaps they don't, but Kuroko doesn't want to bother himself with petty matters. They've all sworn their loyalty to him, and if word does leak out to the emperor's ear, he doesn't hesitate to say that Kise will suggest the best course of action to tackle their misbehaviour: cutting out their wagging tongues. It's cruel, it's horrible and it will stain his hands, and Kuroko prays that it doesn't reach to the point where he's lost control of himself. 

Anything but that.

Almost self-consciously, Kuroko sniffs his wrist.

Nope, no scent or traces of Kise whatsoever. A part of him is relieved, yet another part of him feels the stirring air of foreboding omens gathering in his palace. What transpired last night still played in his head like a broken video, the hot feel of Kise’s hands spreading his thighs, the warm breath whispering in his ears, the soft lips that joined his. It’s wrong. In twenty different levels, it’s still wrong. He doesn't blame Kise for falling from grace's hands, and he doesn't blame himself either.

This body of his, as an omega, is programmed to submit to an alpha’s desire—if he needs to be as willing as a sex slave, then he will be. And his proximity with Kise, his bond as the master and the servant, makes everything worse. It solidifies the wretched gunk lodged in his throat and Kuroko grimaces at the debauched thoughts of putting his arms above his head and spreading his legs for the taking—for Kise to kiss and caress him, to worship his body out of _love_. 

The fact that Kise's aware that he'll be used is supposed to lift the guilty conscience lingering at the back of Kuroko's head, but he didn't expect Kise to readily accept his place as the first pawn of Kuroko Tetsuya against Akashi. Strategizing isn't Kuroko's forte and he knows this all too well after observing how the emperor deals with his life like it's a daily game. It's too late to turn around now. Whether he likes it or not, he's seized the challenge with bare hands. 

Trying to clamber out of his rut, Kuroko heaves another heavy sigh and brushes away the annoying stray locks obscuring his eyes.

Then he pauses. 

When did his hair grow this long?

Kuroko pinches his sideburns and glares at it from the corners of his eyes, the offending blue blob scratching way past his jawline. He's pretty sure he's never had any trouble dealing with his hair before. What made them change? Kuroko brushes his fingers against his powdered cheeks and painted lips, and embarrassingly enough, the firm bounce of his skin is suppler to the touch, more delicate as an aesthetically pleasing creature to the eyes of his audience. Only a month into his inheritance, he's changing due to his accelerated state as a seductive object, an omega. Dreadfully troublesome. The maids would have a field day fastening bejewelled claw clips and feathery pins on his hair now. 

It's sickening.

He's _sickening._

"Kuroko-sama?"

The concubine jerks out of his reverie and snaps around to blink owlishly at a beta servant waiting for his attention.

She looks a bit befuddled with how he’s fixing her with a questioning glance and her ears twitch as her lips purse. “I beg your pardon for interrupting your time alone, Kuroko-sama, but we’ve received urgent news that a convoy will be arriving soon.”

“A convoy?” Kuroko repeats, dumbstruck. “Kise-san didn't mention anything about convoys today.”

“Yes, well,” she apologetically bows, straightening her salmon pink apron with growing nervousness, “I've just received word that not only Midorima-sama will be dropping by, even Aomine-sama and Satsuki-sama—and,” she gulps, trying on a shaky smile, “we’ve also been told to prepare you for His Majesty Akashi Seijūrō’s arrival. Please, anytime you’re ready, we’ll have you in the bathroom as usual.”

No.

Oh no.

Kuroko screws his eyes shut and grimaces at unbidden flashes of redness that blots his vision, of a smirking emperor gifting him a peony, curling his fingers on the book as though he longs to caress Kuroko, mouthing warnings of Kise to him. It's not even a full month yet, but he's already driven to the edge of madness with this escalating progress—and to think that a whole eternity lies ahead of him…

* * *

The coldness bites his skin and Kuroko rubs his forearms as the bathing robe tied haphazardly around his waist exposes him from his shoulder to the jut of his hipbones.

How many times has it been?

He's lost count.

The luxurious feel of silks gliding on his skin vanished, the magic's already undone, and even Kuroko's surprised at how quickly he's adapted to this glamorous lifestyle of his. Every day he's a dress-up doll, sometimes brushed over with Yves Saint Laurent, sometimes Givenchy, and he sees those fluted bottles of perfume as though they're just fancily decorated poisons. They slip on a jewel-encrusted ring on his finger, letting the simple silver adorn his hand, and remove the morning decorations on his hair to make way for grander, more elaborate ones. The mirror in front of him shows a sliver of Kise's reflection at the side lines; he's eyeing Kuroko with an approving smile on his lips, and his ears flex at the many sounds filling the dressing room as the servants fuss about the trolleys and clothes. 

Thankfully, Kise's lost some of the lustiness from yesterday, and a part of Kuroko's relieved that he's aided the blonde in some way—while another part of his heart is driven into a lull at how accepting he's become of this wretched routine. Yesterday marks the first passing day of his heat; who knows how many days will follow? Two, three, or four more? Is Kuroko expected to hold his hand, guide him down the winding staircase to hell?

This place will ruin him sooner or later.

And if Kuroko does stand strong to triumph in the end, he wonders if he'll still be himself when that time comes.

"Let him wear something more impressive today. It's not easy to get Akashicchi to come here, you know?" Kise calls out, his tail swishing steadily, and the maids acknowledge his order with a nod.

The rack of kimonos and lengthy robes are slipped back into place and one of them rolls out another set of modern designs with vibrant colours and daring cuts. Kuroko eyes the myriad of selection with curiosity; he's always been clad in designer kimono from Jotaro's to Mamechiyo's, and he's never touched any of the contemporary clothes before. Seeing the strangest assortment hanging there reminds him of stage dresses waiting for the actresses to wear, and he smiles inwardly at the thought of himself becoming one of them. If some of his classmates in Seirin learn that he's one of the high-ranking citizens in Japan, Kuroko can't imagine how they'd drool in envy of all the luxuries he has his hands on.

Will they start to notice him then?

Fuyutsuki clutches a hanger close to her chest and darts over, an excited sheen glowing in her eyes as her little claws clutch the fabric. "Kuroko-sama, what do you want to wear?" she gushes, vibrating from all of the excitement in her. "I feel like dolling you up in this combination Satsuki-sama made!"

"Oh—oh that's going to be so lovely!" another trills as others murmur their agreement. "Please let him wear that! I've been dying to see someone pull that off!"

A chorus of yes floods the room and Kuroko hears Kise laughing at the back, watching how the sunlight bounces off his golden tresses like they're spun gold. "I think that's too overdramatic for Akashicchi," he says when Fuyutski pouts childishly, but then he rubs his chin and goes over the dress again. "Well… if you guys want to surprise him, I think it's good—ah, Momocchi's going to love that he's wearing it for her though, because nobody's daring enough to put it on."

"So, do you think—?" Fuyutsuki breaks off with a grin. "Oh please, please, please let him wear it!"

"Please, Kise-sama!" yet another maid pleads, already pulling out the cases of jewelleries to match the design. "If he wears it, we can combine this set with those hair combs and it'll be a match made in heaven!"

Somewhere in the midst of chaos, Kuroko calls out, "Please don't," but everyone unanimously ignores it.

Kise mirthfully chuckles at their overall enthusiasm, but the sound dies off and his eyes suddenly narrow at the doorway, his tail a stiff appendage behind him. All at once, the ladies of the court take the cue and their laughter die into hushed murmurs as they shiftily huddle closer to one another with a demure smile on their face, hands over thighs. Kuroko stares at the strange reflection all around him, confused at their sudden behaviour, and parts his lips to ask, but then his ungainly human ears picked up a sudden foreign murmuring bouncing down the walls in the hallway. They've surely heard them from meters away before he did, thanks to their enhanced hearing. Albeit muffled by the deep carpeting, four particular footsteps resonate in the room, and Kise abruptly takes a step backwards, distancing himself from the rest of them. His fingers restlessly rummage through his pockets to draw out the same tab of pills he took from the day before and pops in two caplets into his mouth, swallowing it dry. 

Why?

Kuroko's staring at the exit, half of his mind expecting the worst to happen, anticipating the earth-coloured door to burst open any second now—

"Ki-chan, are you in here?" a woman's strong voice calls out from the outside, high and musical, and the doorknob rattles as it swings open to reveal a lady in sedate red, her girlish frame boldly cinched by a thick metal belt. With lengthy pink hair brushed into a classy chignon, her mascara-coated lashes flutter as she sets a long leg into the room, thick-buckled pumps clacking on the hardwood floor. One look at her has Kuroko thinking of a supermodel vixen with how tall she is, but her demeanour doesn't seem so. She takes a good look around the room, rosy eyes sizing up the situation, and finally her lips stretch into a wide smile. "Ki-chan, is this what I think they're doing?"

"Yep, they're making Kurokocc—sama try on one of your designer dresses," Kise quickly corrects himself, trying on his showy model smile as he rakes a hand through his hair, the silver earring glinting in the light. "Pretty good, huh?"

And Aomine's yawning face hovers over her shoulder, brooding. 

"Yo, Kise, sorry to crash your party. We came earlier than expected." Then he makes a face at the hanger Fuyutsuki's holding. "That thing's hideous—burn it in your kitchen, Tetsu."

"Dai-chan, that's _my_ creation!" she whacks him on the arm, purposefully frowning at his cheeky grin. 

Somewhere from behind him, a dignified yet primly pissed voice grumbles, "With no thanks to your exceedingly hazardous driving skills, you've managed to risk our lives yet again, Aomine," in which Kuroko doesn't need to look any further to know that Midorima's right there with them. Probably prissy as usual, but that's how the man almost always is.

And if Midorima's already here, then it means—

"Tetsuya, we apologize for catching you in a state of undress, but Satsuki insists on seeing you first-hand."

A blotch of crimson enters Kuroko's reflection on the many mirrors and the concubine subconsciously straightens up at the dignified voice filling the dressing room. Akashi's dressed outside his usual norm of brocade robes this time; a white dress shirt that fits nicely on his lithe build with collar chains crossing over a claret necktie, a double-lapel blazer slung over his arm, and fitted white pants. As the emperor steps into view, Kuroko's suddenly all too aware of the icy pinpricks dancing on his exposed skin. Both scarlet and amber eyes relish Kuroko's nudity from waist up, and a charming smile lingers on his lips. He's obviously enjoying the view, and Kuroko's stomach churns at the eeriness of it all. 

It's discomforting, to say the least. 

"He's such a cute omega, Akashi-sama," the female gushes, stars in her eyes, and she prances forward to suffocate Kuroko in her embrace. "Ki-chan, you're so lucky that you get to look at this adorable little thing every second!"

With his face pressed into her… well-endowed bosom, Kuroko doesn't think he could say much for himself. 

But something about her smells strange, to say the least.

She's reminiscent of the trio she's with.

"Let him wear his clothes first, Satsuki," Aomine groans, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "And stop suffocating him with your boobs—do you want to be the next one hung on the gallows today?"

The next one?

_Today?_

Kuroko's innards shrivel at the little slip in Aomine's words and hopes that he isn't too noticeably pale.

"Oh boo, Dai-chan, let me love him a little bit more!" she whines, pouting. If she had any traces of an animal trait, particularly one with a tail, Kuroko thinks he would've seen the appendage wagging erratically like Kise's tail all the time. She does unhand him as he fumbles with the robes, trying to slip his hands into the sleeves, but her engulfing scent is a choking plume of smoke. And that's when he realizes what's actually off about her.

Without thinking, Kuroko blinks and gawks. "I'm sorry, but are you an alpha female?"

"She's a lethal liger, let me tell you that, but nobody knows 'cause she's hiding herself," Aomine grunts, making his way to stand beside a chuckling Kise. "And don't you piss her off because she'll bite your ass twice as hard. Want to see the marks on my ass?"

"Nobody wants to see your butt, Dai-chan! I'm not ashamed that I hide them, definitely not. I like my ears, but I don't like to make holes in my clothes just for my tail," she justifies, sticking out her chest and shaking her head. "They kind of ruin the cutting, you know? And besides, I look cuter without them."

Aomine half-smirks at her answer. "You still stink like an alpha though."

"Dai-chan—!"

"But Momoi Satsuki is a treasured alpha female, and as such, you will have to treat her with respect. Even though her children will all be female alphas, it shouldn't lessen her status in anyone's eyes," Midorima cuts off their bantering firmly, as he finally makes his way into the room with a tiny potted cactus in his bandaged hand. Seemingly mirroring Akashi with how he's casually dressed in a suit and tie as well, he adjusts the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. "Good day to you, Kuroko. As Akashi-sama said, we apologize for interrupting your session. Momoi wants to get a look on you before anything else happens."

"They're just about to make him wear one of your designer dresses, Momocchi," Kise adds, shrugging. "You can lend them a hand, if you want?"

That gets her in better spirits. Practically a bouncing mass of eagerness, Momoi claps and cheers with a wide beam on her face. "Yes, of course—Ki-chan, you're brilliant! Oh, but we should get Akashi-sama's permission first, because Tetsu-kun isn't going to be dressed formally…" With her best impression of a mewling kitten instead of a ferocious liger, she turns to the redhead amusedly watching the scene. "Akashi-sama, may we please play dress-up with Tetsu-kun? I think he'll look really _cute_ in this one!"

Silence meets her bold statement.

Kuroko's unsure if he should be worried about how the crowd wants him in a girly dress or how distantly calculative Akashi has been all this while.

He's just standing there by the doorsill, arms crossed over his chest and ankles locked together, and that same smile is perpetually on his face. It's as though Akashi's eyes could map the path Kise traced yesterday night and dread plants its seeds in Kuroko's heart again. He made sure to scrub all alpha scents off his body the night before with some help from Kise and the handmaidens, but something about how Akashi's behaving triggers alarm bells inside Kuroko's head. 

What if he snaps and sends Kuroko to the gallows? Will he be the next one to be hung today?

"Akashi-sama?" Momoi presses on, tilting her head to the side. 

Even Kise's a shade paler than usual, despite standing near the window with sunlight filtering into the room. 

For a moment there, Akashi keeps his lips pursed together. He's still smiling, still staring, still quiet. Midorima's resolutely pretending as though the calm doesn't disturb him, while Aomine's already itching to bolt the hell out of here in case of any murder attempts. Kuroko quells the urge to make a single noise and plainly fumbles with the terrycloth, not letting the pressure get to him. Maybe fear is what gets Akashi going, and he's determined not to let him win this round. 

Then, after minutes that probably bled into hours in Kuroko's head, Akashi finally signals his consent with a nod.

"Considering that I'm not dressed formally, I don't see why Tetsuya cannot do the same," he says indulgently. "Satsuki designed intricate patterns for her haute couture and some of her pieces have been difficult to wear, or so what I've been told by others. It'll make for an interesting experience, seeing that she's an accomplished designer—"

Aomine barks into laughter mid-sentence, throwing his head back and practically _wheezing_ at Akashi's words, clinging to Kise for support. Seeing his bulky frame shaking with mirth, with Akashi's eyebrow cocked at his graceless display, Kuroko scoots backwards and tries to merge with the surrounding maidservants. No need to get involved in this, or so he tells himself. Midorima's obviously thinking the same thing too with how he fiddles with his glasses and wipes it clean with a piece of cloth, and even the emperor himself surprisingly maintains his silence. To others, it must've looked like such a strange sight. But to Kuroko, it looks like they're waiting for _something_ else to happen. 

He doesn't need to wait long to know what it is.

In three seconds, thick pumps clatter on the floor, and both Akashi and Midorima give way to a stomping liger. 

Uh oh. 

Momoi trudges over to the panther's side and digs her heels right into his shin at breakneck speed. The transition from maniacal laughter to howling is immediate—almost tragically so. Kuroko swears he hears something crack, but amidst Aomine's catastrophic screeching, nothing can be confirmed. Distressed, Kise scurries for safety and hides behind a rolling rack as Momoi takes his place, wrenching Aomine up to his feet by the neck. Pink eyes never gleamed so _murderously_ before. 

"Dai- _chan_ ," she trills sweetly, the acrid sting virtually slathering her words in venom, "we'll talk outside Tetsu-kun's palace, okay? I don't want to make his maids clean up all your blood later."

"W-Wait—Satsuki—!"

Momoi makes Aomine look like a pitiful kitten with how she hauls him by the scruff and yanks him along, dragging him past the two other alpha males who are calmly regarding the situation as though this happened before. They don't stop her; rather, Midorima facilitates the process by helping her open the door and Akashi nods them off before it slams shut again, leaving the rest of them in a questioning mess inside the room. 

Quite uncomfortably, Kise clears his throat and tries not to wince at how they all can hear Aomine's desperate howls echoing down the hallway outside. 

"I guess... we'll get Kuroko-sama to just wear something normal today, since Momocchi's not around."

A collective silence of agreement meets his statement, and Kuroko inwardly sighs at his amazing luck today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#14:** _"It's curious how easily you're placated, Tetsuya. I've yet to gift you with anything, not even a title. At your current level, you're just one of my lowest concubines. Perhaps it's best for me to reshuffle my list, and let you have a taste of what it feels like to be in the ranks amongst my favourites."_
> 
> _**"I can smell Akashicchi all over you. Wow... it's really strong on your hand and lips, and scattered everywhere over your body. Do you wanna talk about what happened out there, Kurokocchi? You know, if you want to get things off your chest."** _
> 
> _"Kise-san, do you know about Akashi-sama's favourites?"_


	14. once upon a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _hello again! this chapter was full of mistakes but the kind **akai-anna @ Tumblr** made sure that it's good to go, so yesh, sorry for my incompetence in typing properly hahaha ;u; at any rate, here you have an akakuro chapter! for those of you guys who are rooting kikuro, you may begin counting your days because of... certain things that will happen in the next chapter. the next chapter's preview doesn't look like much, but some big things will happen in Kuroko's journey. one of those life-changing moments you see in stories, yeah. _
> 
>  
> 
> _anyway, thank you so much for your comments and kudos and continuous support for this story! ;A; i am eternally grateful for everyone's encouragement to go on. hopefully this chapter makes up for my lack of update!_

"Your garden is lovely, Tetsuya."

"I owe it to the servants, they've always taken good care of it."

"But you chose not to add anything to damage the landscape, unlike others."

“Have you been to their pavilions, Your Majesty?"

His innocent question makes Akashi laugh, and Kuroko grows flustered at the thought of him making a fool of himself. 

"Of course, Tetsuya, I have." He strides with an elegant gait beside Kuroko, who seems to fumble in his cotton sandals, and exhales softly. "They each have an allocated amount of riches in their name, so they take the liberty to install new foundations in their homes. I suppose Ryōta hasn't told you this, but after a full month has passed, you'll be paid monthly in order to make up for your absence in the world outside. Consider this a steady job," he adds, throwing a knowing glance. "After all, you'll be living here for a long time, Tetsuya. For some, the money is what makes it worth staying. For others, being my concubine is considered an easy task, something they're willing to trade their whole life away for daily luxuries."

Kise evidently hasn't mentioned that before, out of consideration or forgetfulness, Kuroko doesn't know.

Because it's stark obvious now that he's just a royal whore, paid in monthly instalments.

The little knowledge he clutches in his palm right now is unbearably meagre. The palace's intricacies, the lies and deceit embedded in their veins, the closely guarded secrets, everything frustrates him. He knows there's no way out unless he ascends the throne as someone worthy beside Akashi, as the Grand Empress, but that day seems so far away from the grasp of his tiny hands. So many unforeseen circumstances, vague outcomes that could get him killed. 

He's playing with fire, and that fire will scorch him sooner or later. 

"Of course, Your Majesty," Kuroko acquiesced with a small nod, falling into little hasty steps as he tries to keep up with the emperor's measured pace. They're both strolling around Kuroko's pavilion aimlessly, walking underneath the flower-laden silk cotton trees, flitting in between granite stone lanterns, and the silence breaks every now and then with a small plop from the koi fishpond. Clearing his throat, he folds his hands together and looks up to the redhead once more. "But then again, I won't have much use for the money, Akashi-sama. I have everything that I need here, so I don't need to ask for more."

Akashi tips his head to the side, subtle, and pauses underneath a thick trunk of a hundred-year-old tree, bracing his palm against the gritty wood. He doesn't reply. The falling petals slowly drift away, a scattered mess that dots his crimson hair with pink, yet he doesn't seem to mind them. His smooth, young face has a gentle expression on it, and his lips are painted in a small, yet almost invisible smile. It's strange. At times like this, where the hushed stillness drips between them, when he's not barking commands to his subordinates, Akashi Seijūrō seems more like a man than a sociopathic emperor. 

It's got Kuroko wondering whether it's just a big farce in the end, where everyone's uncoordinatedly ganging up to spread scary lies about murders and cruelty just to see him suffer. 

"And that is what sets you apart from others, Tetsuya," Akashi finally says, a glint of approval highlighting his eyes. "While many would revel in the small riches bestowed upon their names, you find little to no interest in spending them. But ultimately, I'll still be paying you as how I'm paying the rest of your kind. What you do with the money is none of my concern. Perhaps," he muses, withdrawing his hand and raising it to brush a few petals off Kuroko's shoulder, "you can send the money back to your parents, Tetsuya. Or donate it to a charitable organisation of your liking. Whatever your decision may be, I'm content with it."

It's the first time Akashi touches him so openly.

Kuroko doesn't know if the gentle gesture should scare him, or steal his heart.

Kise's brand of affection involved plenty of hand-holding and kisses, where he overflows with so much love until it suffocates the subject with warmth and compassion. But Akashi is insidious, an owner instead of a lover, he handles everything with a genteel touch as though his purpose isn't to show that he treasures them; it leaves them yearning and craving for more. More and more of him, more and more of his caress, more and more of his attention. Comparing Kise to Akashi would be like comparing a teenager with his first love, and an adult man whose life revolves around swarming midnight lovers at his beck and call.

They're too different from one another.

"I understand."

A smouldering smile quirks the corners of Akashi's lips at his favourable answer. How easy it is to please the emperor: essentially, deference is what he seeks from his playmates, and it's vital knowledge that Kuroko picked up from the paltry amount of time they spent with one another. Don't say anything unnecessary, don't provoke him, don't misplace his trust. Those crucial things are keeping his head attached to his body right now, and it shouldn't be compromised, no matter the circumstances.

Gesturing for Kuroko to walk alongside him, the red beauty continues sauntering in the garden, the shuddering grass underneath his feet crunching with every step. "It's curious how easily you're placated, Tetsuya. I've yet to gift you with anything, not even a title. At your current level, you're just one of my lowest concubines," he softly mocks, contemplative. "Perhaps it's best for me to reshuffle my list, and let you have a taste of what it feels like to be in the ranks amongst my favourites."

That's something new.

It bleeds out of Kuroko's ears—playing favourites? Akashi plays favourites with his concubines?—but he retains his general patience to the situation. It's to be expected; he's the newest one in here, and he dares to say that there could've been many others a far cry better at pleasing and pleasuring Akashi, unlike what he's doing with his wagging tongue that only offers chats. Twining his fingers behind his back, the small teen trots alongside the emperor, passing by tall bushes of blue hydrangeas with deep lavender hearts. 

"I didn't know that we have a ranking system, Your Majesty."

This time around, his answer evidently doesn't satisfy Akashi. "Good grief, does Ryōta ever tell you anything?" he clicks his tongue chidingly. Setting his eyes on Kuroko, Akashi allows himself a moment of pensive silence before enlightening the other. "During the previous reigns when we still have plenty of omegas, the emperors held an imperial procession to induct them into royalty."

"Yes, he did mention that before," Kuroko mumbles, nodding. "But due to our declining numbers, as soon as we came into our traits, we're fetched by the ones whom you trust. At least, that is what Kise-san remembered to tell me when I first came here, Akashi-sama." The billowing wind tickles his cheeks and he tucks a straying lock behind his ear, carefully aware of the appreciative look on Akashi's face as though he's a child who should be rewarded for recalling his lessons well.

"You're right, Tetsuya. It used to be that as your kind was inaugurated into my palace, the emperor had to pick ten of out of three thousand to be his empresses, bestowed with different titles and given different sceptres of gold and jades as symbols of their ranks. Now, considering that the number of my concubines fluctuates, I've altered the system to be fair to everyone who's received much later on. They can rise and fall from glory, just with a word of my command, and can be replaced by others who are worthier, like you."

A ticking clock reverberates in Kuroko's head.

He doesn't know whether it's the sound of the steady beating of his heart, or the sound of his internal cogs processing Akashi's words. 

Fluctuating numbers due to how omegas are fetched to increase the amount to its glorified days of three thousand beautifully painted faces, or fluctuating numbers due to how Akashi easily cuts off the weeds from flowers? 

Kuroko looks away from the redhead and opts to gaze at the tiled slopes of his pavilion's roofs, maintaining their amiable silence to mask his seeping thoughts. Kise once stood there, just looking and looking and _looking_ at how Kuroko tried to escape one baleful night, and yet, here he is, still standing strong, still encompassed behind thick walls. Sure, cuts and bruises have started to form at places nobody's ever bothered to look at, but he's still breathing and playing the game of the concubine trapped in the imperial cages. As long as he keeps living, he can still keep going.

 _A human's adaptability is an amazing thing_ , Kise said, and he's right. 

He's always been right. All along. 

Finally finding his voice and gathering his wits, Kuroko raises his chin. "Having Akashi-sama consider someone like me worthy enough to be in his list of favourites, it's more than enough honour for me, Your Majesty. I don't mind staying where I am, just at the bottom. If anything, I'm happier to be out of everyone's attention."

A small laugh pierces the silence—his answer elicits a different reaction from the emperor, who shakes his head and falls into little chuckles deep in his throat. Kuroko's hands quiver but he hides them behind his back; no, he's not afraid of Akashi and that's not the reason why he's faintly trembling at the sound. It gnaws at his curiosity how _lucid_ Akashi is, how he's a dissonance from what others shoved down Kuroko's throat. With Akashi's status as an emperor, he has all the rights to send someone to the chopping board if they remotely displease him, but he doesn't seem capable enough of those incalculable cruelties others have smeared his name, judging from his actions.

Laughing, smiling, making small talks—they're all what normal humans do, like Kise, Aomine, and himself. 

Is what they're doing right now... a crime?

Will it be told by others that Akashi laughs at Kuroko's misery as he's subjected to nothing but slavery?

Is that what was happening all along? Just misrepresentations of the emperor's eminence?

"You're endearing, Tetsuya."

An unfamiliar hand, slightly roughened fingertips, grips his chin and tilts his head upwards. Kuroko finds himself staring, wide-eyed, into noxious red and rusted gold, mussed up tresses cluttered with pink petals, and the disenchanted smile of Akashi Seijūrō. They've both ceased in their steps, just standing underneath a maddeningly blossoming white tree, and Kuroko's heartbeat races with their sudden proximity. They're standing too close, toe to toe—he could inhale the sharp musk of an alpha male, one whose scent is provocatively wrapping Kuroko in its splendour, practically lacing ribbons around his neck, crossing over his chest, and coiling around his ring finger. 

For a moment, everything's lost as Akashi's thumb sneaks out, brushing softly against Kuroko's bottom lip.

A touch too soft for a murderer.

"You're an inviolable beauty, despite not being the end product yet," the emperor murmurs, eyes crinkling with his smile. His thumb is gentle in its ministrations, just sensually biding Kuroko into submission as one of Akashi's belongings—one of his prized possessions others cannot attain in their lifetime. "Even so, you've delighted me well enough for today." His voice lulls others into a dream, slow and measured, injecting tranquillisers to render them helpless before him. "Well enough to warrant your presence in the inner palaces than the outer grounds. You will please me even more so if you accept my orders to move you to where I can have access easily."

—no.

That is his endgame.

This is his design.

Kuroko can't succumb to it.

Not yet.

Just as soon as the thought flickered in Kuroko's mind, Akashi pulls away as though he isn't charged guilty of any crime at all. Just the crime of leaving a lingering, hungering heat on Kuroko's lips that strokes a low, curling feeling in his chest, right down his loins. 

Mouth suddenly dry at the realisation, the concubine shakes his head.

"You regard me too highly, Your Majesty," Kuroko sighs, rubbing his forearms to get a semblance of himself. "I'd rather not disappoint you because I might be a glass in the end."

The slight quirk on Akashi's face is unmistakably one of disproval. "Know your place, Tetsuya," he warns, albeit his tone is lighter than his words. "I am never wrong... unless you dare to question my judgment?"

"I apologise, that wasn't my intention at all, Akashi-sama," he quickly rectifies his slip, although the heaviness of his tongue belies his purpose. Pulling himself together, Kuroko shifts his stance and tries again. "Other than my family, I grew up with people who do not believe in me, so I've never had anyone who would appreciate my existence like how you did. Even my seniors in Teikō Middle High didn't give me permission to join the second string of the basketball club because of my late inheritance. As someone called a late bloomer, I'm not even qualified to enter the club to begin with. I'm too weak to be used as a regular, or even as a useful member."

"Oh? Did they bully you for it?” 

Kuroko shakes his head, drawing a thin smile on his lips. "No, since I was almost invisible in school. Garbage duties on Tuesdays always had the seniors gathering at the area near the incinerators, and they often smoke there. I heard a bit about myself from them every now and then whenever I passed by to do my job. It wasn’t very pleasant most of the time, but it didn't break my spirit."

Something about his little story stirs a different air about Akashi, Kuroko realises. 

For one, it isn't of murder. With his head tilted back, he establishes a different sort of eye contact with Kuroko. He hardly blinks now, just taking in Kuroko like how Kuroko's taking in Akashi. The emperor silently assesses the tale without any interruptions, and it isn't likely that he'd interject anytime soon. 

Slightly perplexed and hoping that he hasn't offended Akashi in any way, Kuroko wets his lips and continues. "It's probably the same anywhere else in schools, Your Majesty. Perhaps there are others who've been discriminated worse than me. Thankfully I graduated just fine from Teikō, and they were scouted into Kirisaki Daīchi. That's the last I heard from them."

It's only at the ending Akashi allows himself a slight, close-lipped smile. Staring down at Kuroko, his overbearing presence would've intimidated most, if not all, but something else lights up his eyes. 

Warmth?

No.

"Did you know?" he breaks the tension with a curious tone, but it's obviously a rhetorical question. "Late bloomers often blossom into the loveliest flowers. However, to witness them, it draws on patience. Patience in caring for it in the midst of its growth, of course. Yet, it rewards with transcendent splendours, from dahlias to tulips. Similarly, those who don't take the time to know you will not know of your imminent strength and charm, Tetsuya. Don't let their words discourage you from knowing and appreciating your own self."

Kuroko inhales sharply until his mind throbs from the pain. 

Did someone as reputedly merciless as Akashi actually took the time to entertain his mindless rambling?

Or is this another one of his elaborate traps again?

It couldn’t be.

Instead of minding his lacking response, Akashi takes it as a sign of contemplation instead of bewilderment and moves on, walking ahead of the static Kuroko. Akashi's words seem to have no impact on himself even though it rolled off his tongue like he practiced daily in front of a mirror. He's on a whole different level from the rest of them. Even a sufficiently noble young man with an aristocratic mannerism like Midorima couldn't possibly hold a candle to Akashi's innate charisma. 

Unrivalled, that's how he is.

"Come along, Tetsuya," Akashi says, pausing ever so slightly to throw a glance over his shoulder, and when he spots the motionless Kuroko, he smiles. Outstretching a hand. Curling in his fingers. Beckoning him to join. A dissonance all over again. "I want to show you something before our little time is up."

Who is he to deny the emperor?

No one.

Hopelessly bound under the spell, Kuroko steps into the garden of Alice and reaches out, taking his hand. The wind picks up almost ominously, a foreboding sign for the superstitious, yet Kuroko curls his fingers into Akashi's palm, the foreign texture of his palm pricked with calluses. His sandals scrape alongside leather shoes on the grass, just following as a pet would do. Together, they trudge deeper behind Kuroko's palace, strolling past anciently flowering trees and venturing further beyond what Kuroko previously did.

As their pathways shifted from grassy plains to hardened earth, where healthy foliage breaks into wiry branches, it soon taps into the concubine's mind about his location. It's a place he's seen before.

Kuroko's instincts are proved right when they push through scratchy dead barks and overturned shards of pots, traversing deep, deeper, deepest into the dejected forest. Akashi's oddly familiar with this place, from the telltale smile lingering on his lips that reminded Kuroko of boy scouts going on woodland adventures. When they step past broken wooden fences tarnished by age and weather, Akashi slows down to a gradual halt and tightens his hold on Kuroko's hand, gesturing to a building in front of him.

"Remember this, Tetsuya?" he says.

And Kuroko does. 

It's the very same building that he's spotted in the distance when he planned his escape. Its walls are eaten away by age and mould, scraps of yellow paint scantily providing cover to cracked cement, and all its entrances and windows have been boarded shut. A perfect replica of a horror movie's manor. The hallowing darkness within hides what Kuroko doesn't know, it's almost fearsome to look at, and he thinks Akashi caught on to his trepidation because they're both not inching closer to what the building hides. They're just standing there, close enough to make out details of its former glory, yet far away to squash the chills creeping on Kuroko's skin.

"This building," he says, and there's a certain heaviness clinging to his words as he holds Kuroko close; "is where my late mother used to live."

Kuroko blinks.

That explains why Akashi knew a lot about his pavilion's history.

When it comes to familial matters, some love to chat away about their parents and siblings. Others, not so much. What's it like for the great emperor then? Was he more of his mother's son, or his father's? Did he have any siblings, or is he just a one-man army? "Akashi-sama must've frequented this place then," Kuroko comments almost conversationally, stumped on what he should do on the subject.

"Yes." 

There's a hint of melancholy in Akashi's voice, something distant. Is he reminiscing? Kuroko can't tell. Only the heat enveloping his hand conveys a different story from the rest. 

"Before she was noticed by the late emperor, she, too, chose to live a few years away in solitude. Much like you did," Akashi teases with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I played in her palace when I was young and my bodyguards had a hard time trying to find me in her garden. She planted plenty of flowers and trees that bore fruits, and I often took some for her, despite the maids' persistent chastising. It was unbecoming for a prince to climb trees, you see."

A young and belligerent Akashi, red scrapes and smudged palms, flash through Kuroko's mind as the princeling scuttles past burly men on his knees. His pomegranate red hair billowing in the wind as he gathers handfuls of flowers to be brought back to his mother, the ever-sweet child. The mellow scent of the ripened persimmons blowing into a sunshine-lit room, a mother holding her son's hand with promises of greatness in her eyes.

So different.

They're too different from one another.

"Didn't you stay with your mother, Your Majesty?"

He shakes his head. "No. I have no recollection of living together with the late empress. My earliest memories were of her garden and how she tediously plants one seed after another on the ground. As I was instructed to live in my own palace, I had little contact with her."

The exquisite pain of wanting to be close to someone dear to his heart.

Kuroko understands them all too well.

"Those are precious memories," the concubine whispers, his voice barely carried by the wind. "I'm sure you treasure them, Akashi-sama. Thank you for sharing them with me."

Akashi doesn't reply at his words of gratitude.

He stares at the decrepit palace, his playground once upon a dream, and shifts his head to one side. Kuroko can't begin to imagine what imageries are playing in Akashi's mind, just tattered polaroid photos yellowing from age, and _why_ he's affected by it. Maybe it's because they're both traipsing on a sensitive topic now which both parties could relate to; in a way, Akashi didn't manage to spend much time with his mother before he was wrenched away from her love. And in some ways, Kuroko hadn't spent much time with his family either before the palace got to him. 

Perhaps, just perhaps, they're both more similar than he thought. 

A shrill, distinct beeping from Akashi's pocket steals his words, and the magic is gone yet again.

Akashi flippantly withdraws his smartphone, singlehandedly tapping through things as he scrutinises the screen. It's a look of displeasure with how he's deeply frowning, if Kuroko's sure of anything. Then, almost methodically, Akashi tucks it away in his pocket and looks at Kuroko through half-lidded eyes. 

"It seems that our time is up, Tetsuya," the emperor says, and Kuroko’s unsaid words sink right into his throat. "I have to attend to a sudden matter that's been brought up, and I'm not one who delays such urgent subjects. I'll return you to your palace where Ryōta will take care of you once again, and hope that we'll meet again in the nearest future—that is, of course, at the risk of your life."

Is that an insinuation to Kuroko's growing popularity, and inevitable death threats? He doesn't know. Kuroko's sacrificed his family, his school, his life, his body for this moment, and to ruin it would be foolhardy. All he knows is to grasp Akashi's hand tightly, enjoying the emanating warmth that flows through his veins, and hope that it's for the best.

"Yes, Akashi-sama. As you wish."

And together, they leave the dreary scenery of a crumbling past, a decaying building, hand in hand.

It would've been perfect as a love story; only, they were not in love with each other.

There is no love to begin with.

* * *

Without the rest of Akashi's ensemble of friends, an empty husk is what Kuroko's palace is all about.

And Kuroko himself retreats to the safety of his room to contemplate today's events.

"I can smell Akashicchi all over you," Kise pointedly says, sitting spread-legged on a stool, his tail wagging attentively behind him. His ears prick forward when Kuroko shifts restlessly underneath the gossamer sheets, resting his head on the goose down pillow. Mystified at his lacking reply, the blonde cocks his head to the side. "Wow... it's really strong on your hand and lips, and scattered everywhere over your body." Almost nosily, too nosy for one who's vying for the concubine's attention, Kise asks, "Do you wanna talk about what happened out there, Kurokocchi? You know, if you want to get things off your chest."

Yes.

He very much wants to. 

But his jaws are clenched tight, refusing to let his tongue articulate his questions.

Only managing a breathy sigh, Kuroko turns to his side and stares at the golden fluff of Kise's hair. The meticulous detail of each strand falling over his eyes, every flutter of his long lashes, a twitch of changing expressions, his bodyguard patiently awaits Kuroko's marvellous retelling despite his tail wagging up a storm back there. Neither one of them spoke for a very long time, with the ticking clock counting their seconds. 

After a moment of silence, it's only then Kuroko sighs.

"I talked with Akashi-sama earlier and he told me about his mother who used to live in the old building behind the trees. It seems like his mother is an important person to him, judging from what he said."

"Akashicchi's mother?" Kise echoes, jaw hanging open. "W-Wait, Kurokocchi, are you serious? He actually talked about… _her_?”

Now it's Kuroko's turn to be surprised. Why wouldn't he be serious? Unless the imperial palaces are, yet again, hiding things from him. "What do you mean, Kise-san?"

“The… previous Grand Empress committed suicide.” 

Or that.

"The previous empress committed suicide?" Kuroko weakly parrots, hoping that the waver in his voice lies undetected. Fingers digging into the sheets, he stops himself from trembling on the bed. With some knowledge comes great price, and the reigning currency in the imperial grounds is _fear_. "Akashi-sama never told me anything about that."

"Well—yeah, that's because it happened a long time ago," the wolf nods sagely. With the perfect imitation of a bearded scholar, Kise clears his throat and adjusts his tie. "Nobody outside the walls knew about it, definitely not even the normal citizens. It's pretty much the talk of the city in here since everyone gossiped about it, even years afterwards. Some theorised that the late emperor hired some people to _off_ her, and there were some who said that the pressure got to her real bad, so she ended her life. No doubt the prints on the knife’s handle were hers, so someone definitely couldn't plant anything on it since the forensics didn't find anything else—but diehard fans, you know how they are. They'll just keep yapping away without any proof. Still, it's a pretty popular theory with its dumb luck and bad timing because the late emperor was pretty old with sickness, so he didn't want to leave his wife around in case she tries to usurp his throne and power. That’s just how everyone accepted it, you know.”

No.

Kuroko does not know.

And he'd rather not know either, but ignorance won't prove to be bliss in here.

This contained environment submerged its denizens in madness over the years, the saturation growing thicker and thicker over the hundreds of glamorous years. Fame, wealth, fertility, _jealousy_ , just about everything drives them to the edge of insanity. They want more—they yearn for more than what their feeble hands could grasp. Greed pulled them over the chasm, swallowing them whole, and no doubt the late empress, Akashi's mother, felt the same way. Maybe there's more to her story than what others know, but what's popularised won’t easily be forgotten.

Just like how Akashi's actions are often misinterpreted into acts of violence.

Drying his clammy palms, Kuroko shrugs those gloomy thoughts away and squares his shoulders. "May we go out tomorrow, Kise-san? I'd like a distraction, if it's possible. A month in my palace won't do me any good after all, I think."

"But it's still dangerous, Kurokocchi." Kise shakes his head firmly, hunching forward as he rests his elbows on his knees. "We still don't have another backup bodyguard from Midorimacchi. Give him some time to get someone free. For now, just stay in your palace." On a note of sheer desperation, Kise doesn't hesitate to tack on a quiet, "Please?" at the end of his sentence. 

This again? Kuroko sighs. "I understand the risks, Kise-san, but I have to insist. I won't be going anywhere dangerous—just the library. It may be the best place if I want to learn more about the palace. For starters, the royal archives might have what I need to know."

A look of immediate relief is evident in Kise's eyes as he leans back on the stool. "Okay, the library sounds better since I don't think other concubines go there. Most of them don't even like reading anyway. We'll head there after breakfast or lunch anytime, if you want?"

Other concubines. 

Other members of the harem.

Yes, after all these weeks, Kuroko will finally emerge from his cocoon and possibly witness the other peacocks kept under Akashi's wing. Surely they've been here longer than he had, with inheritances spanning a few more years backwards. _His_ kind of people, not the dangerous alphas, not the reticent betas. Will they have generously feminine features? Long hair, full lips, flat chest or perky breasts? Curvaceous hips to bear children, Akashi's heirs? Satin skin and silken dresses, jewelled earrings and hammered gold bracelets? The prospect of it is rather exciting, and Kuroko finds himself biting his lips at the million scenarios flitting through his mind's eye. 

But there's one thing that bugs him.

Just one small thing. 

"Kise-san, do you know about Akashi-sama's favourites?"

Oh, that subject made the ever-animated Kise freeze on the spot. He straightens up uncomfortably on his seat, eyes wide like he's caught guilty of something. No sooner than three ticks of the clock, he fidgets about, restlessly tapping his heels and squishing his hands together in a tight ball. In a series of halted gasps, he opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, the closing click of his teeth further fuelling Kuroko's curiosity. What's that supposed to mean anyway? Does his reluctance stretch that far?

Sitting up on the bed, Kuroko makes a show of fluffing his pillows and props himself against them, awaiting his faithful servant's reply. 

He won't budge on this matter, and Kise should know better than to test him. 

"I only know a few," is Kise's raspy reply, holding up three fingers. Taking a shuddering lungful of air, he counts them off one by one; "The one who's living in the Palace of Celestial Purity is Sakurai Ryō, the tenth favourite. In the Palace of Eternal Tranquillity is the second favourite, Mayuzumi Chihiro." He pauses, gritting his teeth, balling up his fist. "And your biggest competitor is Akashicchi's current favourite... the first-ranking concubine who lives in the Palace of Sanguine Pleasure, Furihata Kouki."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#15:** _"Of course they do!" Kise energetically proclaims, gesturing at the entrance. The uniform-clad guards standing there are perpetually moulded into a saluting pose, and their beady eyes are just watching their interaction with their lips pursed. "I think Midorimacchi mentioned something about books arranged by some dew-dude system, and we've got elevators, escalators, and travelators to make navigation easier. There're always librarians to help out if you get lost in there. So don't sweat it, Kurokocchi, you're going to be fine. It's not that big anyway!"_  
>  **NOTE: TVP will remain AkaKuro/KiKuro, not AkaFuri/MayuAka/etc., all right? :D further clarification can be found here (spoilers ahead):[{HERE}](http://strangulated-harlot.tumblr.com/post/91036180635/clarification-regarding-the-akafuri-part-in-tvp-14). Thank you for your understanding!**


	15. to keep my heart beating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've finally gotten over my writer's block for TVP, YES! ;u; it feels like a miracle... finally we can proceed on to more ~~deaths and people dying and people getting injured~~ drama and romance from both kikuro and akakuro sides. first off, thanks so much for everyone's patience and support and constant messages/reviews/comments to remind me to update: now TVP can be updated as usual (i'm working on 16 at the moment). second off, thank you to these WONDERFUL PEOPLE kjahdkajshd who pampered me with TVP art (click on them pls):
> 
> **[muuchan](http://kantarou-chan.tumblr.com/post/91018466716/one-last-picture-for-the-day-i-drew-a-lot-this) | [Tamireli](http://tamireli.tumblr.com/post/99150677256/quick-drawing-based-on-super-talented) | [Muffarino](http://muffarino.tumblr.com/post/91271463715/a-gift-for-strangulated-harlot-its-supposed-to) / [Erin](http://muffarino.tumblr.com/post/100748932245/a-gift-for-ira-because-shes-lovely-and-her) | [Houdidesu](http://houdidesu.tumblr.com/post/95165327223) | [charait](http://charait.tumblr.com/post/100799516447/haha-i-do-this-instead-of-studying-for-the-midterm)**
> 
> everyone's rendition of Kuroko & Akashi is so amazing i just ;u; /wipes tears **THANK YOU!** if i ever missed out your gift/sthg, please smack me on the face and tell me okay. any mistakes you see in this chapter is 100% mine because i am still crap with grammar and might've overlooked things OTL pls forgive me even though [anna](www.akai-anna.tumblr.com) had kindly corrected most of them!  
> 

“Kise-san?”

“Yes, Kuroko-sama?”

The concubine squints at the rooftop, barely making out the silhouette of a curling phoenix on the tip. “Please tell me that the Royal Archives has a directory.”

“Of course they do!” Kise all but energetically proclaims, gesturing at the entrance. The uniform-clad guards standing there are perpetually moulded into a saluting pose, beady eyes watching their interaction mutedly. “I think Midorimacchi mentioned something about books arranged by some dew-dude system last time, and we’ve got elevators, escalators, and travelators to make navigation easier. There’re always librarians to help out if you get lost in there. So don’t sweat it, Kuroko-sama, you’re going to be fine. It’s not that big anyway!”

Not that big is an understatement.

Comparing Kuroko’s pavilion to this monstrosity makes his little palace just a child’s dollhouse in disguise. 

The ancient architecture stands regally with whirring water fountains splashing little dots on the ground. Appropriately manicured hedges lined the pathways leading to the widely spaced steps; bright blooms dabbed on healthy green shrubs, large columns enveloped the building’s entryway in faux postmodern majesty. Such luxurious design is certainly befitting for royalties who frequent here, Kuroko thinks, but the sheer size of the library itself is intimidating. Spanning a few buildings long, each with five interconnecting floors and bridges forming a peculiarly shaped hexagon, Kuroko doesn’t wonder why Kise felt the need to mention that travelators were provided. 

No success comes without a little struggle of trekking a few kilometers, or so he tells himself, thus the little concubine climbs the stairs one step at a time with Kise trailing behind him. 

“Don’t trip and fall, Kuroko-sama,” chides Kise, cautious. 

Kuroko only smiles at his guardian’s worrying. 

The wan-faced guards don’t seem all too impressed with their appearance, perhaps questioning their sanity as to why they’d spend their glorious days stuck inside a library. Not inclined to answer their silent questions, Kuroko nods to acknowledge their presence as they maintained saluting. Their curiously trailing eyes burned little pinpricks down his spine. When the automated glass doors parted to allow them entry, a chilling breeze engulfs Kuroko. He shudders, the silken fabric of his kimono rustling at the sheer force of the blowing air-conditioner. 

“Sheesh, they still haven’t adjusted the temperature?” Kise rubs his forearms, crinkling his suit in the process. “Aominecchi’s right, they do have a plot of some sort to turn this whole place into a huge freezer for dead bodies!”

“It is too cold,” Kuroko agrees, pulling his lengthy sleeves closer to his body to serve as some sort of warmer. “This means that we’ll have to be quick about it, Kise-san.”

Kise nods rapidly, his teeth starting to chatter. “Of course, as you wish.”

The foyer of the library showcases the lush grandeur of the royalty itself, what with the hanging balconies of five floors shown in cascading stages right above his head. Carefully complementing the winding banisters are large vases carved from what seems to be Bohemian gradient-dipped crystals, flooded with fist-sized carnations. The floral decors accentuated the imaginary struggle taking place in the library between modernity and traditionalism, yet, the workers had done a splendid job balancing the contrast while retaining the finer details of their culture. 

Even Kuroko has to shake his head at the tedious jobs when all the concubines never seem to appreciate them. When faced with overwhelming wealth daily, have the opulence faded in their eyes?

Stowing his hands inside the pockets of his pants, Kise clears his throat and tips his head with a teasing grin.

“So, where do you want to start?”

* * *

Floor V, Section B-II, Rack BCC 701 to 758.91.

Kuroko thinks he’s pored over more books than Shakespeare ever did in his lifetime. 

He’s found leather-bound theses written by famous scholars, read through journal compilations describing how mathematical equations are derived, skimmed past historical anecdotes of unique ghost stories, and leafed through pages of a man’s adventure into the deep sea. 

Consulting the digital directories aren’t helping him either; he taps the screen and a map zooms into his face, displaying his current location. When he tried going for history and narrowed it down to imperial texts, he discovers there were notable courtesans who contributed to Japan’s history in their literary works. It’s either something along those lines, or deciphering scrawls of books that are breaking apart at the seams. 

He’s not having much luck.

Kise’s already made the floor his new home, what with him sitting crossed-legged and surrounded by a mountain of books. He’s sorted them out into two stacks: one side is for books he’s certain they don’t have anything to do with what he wanted, and another side is for books he hasn’t examined. From the looks of it, the former is winning by a large margin.

Biting his lip, Kuroko throws a frustrated glance at the little signboard tacked onto the bookshelf. Section BCC 799 proves to be worthless to his cause. 

“Man, I wish I had an insider in this,” Kise groans, his catlike eyes peering from behind a book entitled _Life and Times of Wu Zetian_. “At least we can conspire together to bring out the dangerous stuffs. But I know Midorimacchi’s going to smack me if I try to get him to work.”

Gathering the flowing silk skirt around his legs, Kuroko carefully kneels and arranges the materials all around him. The biting chill of the marble floors shoots straight through his skin, adding more to the slight tremble of his fingertips when he reaches out to help Kise. “I don’t think we should involve Midorima-san, since he is a close confidant of Akashi-sama, so things might backfire. But you’re right,” he sighs heavily; “maybe I relied a bit too much on the library to give me what I need.”

Kise blinks once, slowly like something’s dawning on him. Kuroko recognises it as one of contemplation, even though his face is partially obscured by a book. “The head prison guard, Hanamiya—he’s not that nice of a guy to spill the details, but maybe if we can bribe him with something?” 

“Bribe?” Kuroko could only stare. Apparently, morality slips past Kise at times. “I don’t think I have anything worthy enough to be offered as trade, Kise-san.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Kise shakes his head, closing the book and tossing it aside. It lands in the pile haphazardly, toppling the stack over with a loud clatter, and Kise winces at the reprimanding look Kuroko shot him. “… sorry about that, Kurokocchi. Anyway, Hanamiya doesn’t work with physical bribes. Information for information, you know? Unless we have something juicy to give him, I don’t think he’ll be so loose-lipped with any of us.” Then he makes a sour face. “He doesn’t like anyone else much though, so good luck to us if we’re trying to get him on our side.”

Tricky men. 

Nothing good comes from associating himself with shady people, his grandmother told him, so he always avoided befriending anyone problematic in middle school, right until high school. Keeping to himself, blending in with the background, Kuroko felt mostly at peace with himself and philosophical novels. Hanamiya rings alarms in his mind, what with bribes being the currency he works with. Information Kuroko holds about the palace are scarce like dust in his palm, so what would he be able to feed Hanamiya with?

He’d sooner land on the chopping board if he made one wrong move, Kuroko thinks.

“It’s all right, Kise-san, let’s forgo Hanamiya-san for now.” The concubine shakes his head. “We’ll find another way, sooner or later. Getting involved with him sounds like bad news.”

Kise laughs at his words, his ears perking up as his tail pats the floor happily behind him. “He’s the head guard at the royal prison for a reason,” he points out. “He doesn’t really get along with anyone else, but I know Kiyoshi Teppei’s really friendly with him. Apparently they go some ways back, but I didn’t really pay attention to the details. Do you want me to ask him instead?”

Kuroko bites his lip. As much as he understands where Kise’s coming from, he’d rather not. There are buttons he shouldn’t be pushing anytime soon.

“No, let’s not do that. Maybe we’ll continue after lunch, Kise-san,” Kuroko suggests. He’s pretty sure he can’t feel his hands anymore; they’re sore from pulling out books wedged between tight spots and his fingers are dry from the lack of moisture. “The air conditioner is starting to get to me.”

Kise is all too happy to oblige, his face brightening up. The exact mirror of a puppy, his tail wagging furiously from behind. “Let’s go home, Kurokocchi?”

Home. It’s a word held closely to Kuroko’s heart, but a foreign sound in the palace grounds. 

His new home is a house built entirely of nosy feline maids and a wolf playing watchdog. Bulletproof Mercedes parked in the porch and ornate stone lanterns lit at twilight. Sex for games and strategies discussed on silk beddings. Not the one with his worn white t-shirts lumped in a laundry pile, not with the wind chime hanging on his windowsill that tinkles when the breeze picks up, not the one with familiar faces he loves. 

But when Kise gets up and holds out his hand, patiently waiting for Kuroko to take it, he wonders if he can try building a new home where he stands. 

It’s slow, but it’s the start of something new. 

“Yes, let’s go, Kise-san.”

* * *

  
**the vindictive paradise**   
_#15: to keep my heart beating_   


* * *

_If jealousy has a particular shape and consistency, it’s much like the mochi lodged in his throat._

_His palace’s servant, traditionalist Tanaka with a twirly moustache, annually serves him some when his 12th New Year rolls around the corner. The delicacy sits like a dull gem mounted on the heart of an expertly burned porcelain plate. Akashi picks up his two-pronged fork and cleanly divides the squishy ball into two, watching the paste spill out; thick red bean, like clotted blood from a drained corpse._

_He only eats half of it._

_The other, Akashi places it on his venerable mother’s altar in his bedroom, amongst the lilies he instructed the maids to grow in his backyard. Freshly handpicked, only the very best makes it through his inspections. Empress Shiori deserves no less than perfection._

_Normal families would usually gather around the table, legs huddled up under toasty kotatsu, to watch morning NHK after praying and ringing up fortunes at the shrine. Akashi only recently discovers it after curiously inquiring his private tutor regarding her family’s routine. She recalls it with stunning vividness until he wonders what she sees behind those cell-thin eyelids each time she blinks._

_He has never been normal from birth, so he grows up with retreating to his bedroom, only to withdraw his riding attire. Crisply starched pants, spit-shiny boots, he is regal in his ensemble, the heir everyone knows he is. Flighty on his feet, Akashi exits his quarters and turns the corners sharply. Tanaka, though, catches him on his way out, but he wordlessly opens the doors for the young prince and wishes him a good ride._

_They never asked. So he never told._

_The trek to his private stables is challenging when he almost slips and falls on sleet. But Yukimaru, the snowy beast standing majestically in her dock, makes up for the trouble. And meeting Yukimaru has always been liberating. A coping mechanism of sorts. Yukimaru does the running for him when his legs are tied up. Yukimaru listens with her moist nose touching his forehead as he speaks, the details blurred by the years he grew._

_Yukimaru is his crutch._

_Crisp coldness of fading winter mingles with the curling warmth of heated hay in the stable as Akashi gently guides her out. She’s still a bit dazed, harrumphing slowly when trotting alongside him. Gently, he pulls the leather reins and steers her towards their spot; it’s the one near the big dead tree, where the maids frequently chastised him not to approach. Dead branches might fall and hit him on the head and whatnot._

_Maybe it’s better that way so he’d forget, he bitterly thought once upon a time, but no more than that._

_Akashi lets Yukimaru fold her elegant legs as she sits on the ground, obediently awaiting his next line of orders. Then, he too makes himself comfortable with her warmth. Nestled together, they watch the gently falling snow blanket the world in white, with melting ice staining his pants and gloves ruddy from damp earth._

_Yukimaru nudges his cheek, grunting softly, and Akashi laughs. It’s cold alone, but warm together._

_He tries not to think about the invisible mochi clogging his throat, and wonders if his mother ate enough of her share._

* * *

Mayuzumi Chihiro, a frigid beauty from Kyoto, has never been good company.

Only accepted into the palace for being an omega, that’s all he’s good for. Whenever Midorima arranges for the usual cycle of courtesans to fill in Akashi’s afternoons, Akashi could always tell whenever Mayuzumi is around. The usually clean air would be thick with a musky scent, sticky and oppressive. Most omegas would smell sweet and ripe for the picking, but not Mayuzumi. He’s like freshly expired bread that nobody tosses out because it’s only two-day old; useless, but what a waste. 

Unlike other consorts, Mayuzumi shows no interest in him. He’d always parrot his given words (“Good afternoon, Your Majesty”), tone flatter than a flat tyre, and plop into the nearest chair to read his latest ‘literature’ fix.

Akashi never had much eye for the other anyway, letting the omega do as he pleased, so long he doesn’t disturb anything in the workspace. 

Mayuzumi talks very little of himself and more of the things around him, and their little conversations were more often than not interesting. In that odd way, they worked together the most, yet also the least. When offered tidbits and sweetmeats by the periodic intervals of maids, Mayuzumi would either nod or shake his head to indicate his decisions, still nosing his book. An hour and thirty minutes will pass just as easily without much incident, and he exits just as quietly as he enters. 

Today, with A Certain Magical Index #1 tucked in his arm, while holding a slab of seasonal _yokan_ jelly as a gift in the other (no doubt forced by his head maid to up the ante on his competition), Mayuzumi breaks the silence.

“So,” he starts. 

Like most things Akashi isn’t concerned with, he doesn’t look up from the paperwork. He hasn’t bothered to reply either. It doesn’t deter Mayuzumi, however.

“I saw your latest addition. Kurokocchi, was it?”

This, however, gets Akashi to break off his eye contact with the paper to stare into Mayuzumi’s own. Like dead fish, those blank eyes defiantly returned the look. His long fingers slowly folded a corner of the page, closing the book. Meters apart from Akashi’s desk to Mayuzumi’s chair by the opened window, it shouldn’t be remotely possible to produce such taut tension, but there they are, already making the impossible possible. 

“What about it?” asks the emperor, returning to his duty. He signs off a paper after scrutinising the contents and sets it aside. “I didn’t peg you for the jealous type, Chihiro.”

Inelegant, the omega scoffs and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t plaster falsies to his eyelids like others, nor has he bothered with makeup at all. Just plain, Mayuzumi’s the few contradiction to many. “Came out of the library and saw the dog with a new chew toy,” Mayuzumi says, borderline sarcastic. “Kise’s just too loud as usual, it’s pretty impossible not to hear him from miles away.”

Most of them would know Kise’s too loud anyway. That’s just how he is. 

While the new courtesans, nerves too frazzled upon being selected by the kingdom to breed with the emperor, loved nothing more than the wolf’s chattiness, some begged to differ. Akashi knows Sakurai Ryo, the quiet one in the Palace of Celestial Purity, complained about being jittery around Kise once—and apologised ten times more, while Furihata Kouki enjoyed Kise’s company whenever he’s around. That’s just how things worked.

Nonplussed, Akashi shuffles through the stacks and picks out one with a bold red IMPORTANT stamped across it. “Your point being?”

Mayuzumi shrugs. The ungainly movement, paired with his lanky stature and large build, makes him look disjointed like a broken marionette. He leans over the coffee table, pops a piece of cool jelly in his mouth, contemplatively savouring both the grassy flavour and unfavourable silence. 

After swallowing, his dead eyes linger on Akashi’s hair. 

“Where did you pick him up?”

“Perhaps you should ask Daiki and Ryota; they’d know,” Akashi points out the obvious. Turns out the IMPORTANT paper isn’t as important as it should be, so he mentally notes to sign it on a later date after further discussion with the ministers. Filing through the stacks, he picks out another and browses throughly. “Something about him concerns you?”

A normal person with normal interests would’ve taken just a fraction of second to answer. Normalcy hardly applies to Mayuzumi, who's always barefaced and dressed in the plainest of robes even when meeting the emperor. Tucking a lock of his choppy grey hair behind his ear, he leans back in the plush chair and haughtily crosses his legs. A very manly display.

“Kind of weird to see someone walking into the library, don’t you think?” he says, quirking a brow. “Most of them don’t even want to go there because it’s boring. I’ve been living off the library for a while, so you can imagine my surprise when the kid walked in.”

At this, Akashi chuckles quietly. He regards Mayuzumi with a strange expression, a mix of knowing curiosity with those dichromatic eyes. “You’re not much older yourself, Chihiro. Tetsuya displayed far more maturity than you ever did when I met him.”

“Get off my case, eighteen is pretty old.” The omega clicks his tongue, eyes half-lidded in contempt. He puts Index #1 on the armrest and props his head on his arm, watching Akashi work through his papers. Mayuzumi doesn’t let the silence stew for long; it’s not his style to lose, even if it’s with the emperor. “I don’t usually like guys like him,” he says, “but he’s different. He looks like someone’s going to eat him alive—soon.”

His voice has taken a suggestive quality, one that gets Akashi to look at him again. Mayuzumi, in his drab blue robes and tastefully offensive shocking pink obi, returns the eye contact. He doesn’t back down or even flutter his lashes girlishly. With other concubines, it might’ve cost them dearly for the daring display of stupidity. With Mayuzumi, perhaps it sufficed if Akashi revoked his library rights for a month or two. 

“That is?”

“Don’t know, but maybe I’ll find out after I pay him a visit,” says Mayuzumi casually. The slight lowering of his eyelids at the end of his words, however, carries a load of connotation. “It’s just a friendly visit between fellow courtesans. You know how friendly I can be.”

Such nonsense. If it comes from anyone else, Akashi would’ve passed it off. Mayuzumi, as always, proves to be a difficult case. An incorrigible one. “You are still an omega, Chihiro,” Akashi curtly reminds him. If Mayuzumi knows better, he won’t challenge or even think of defying Akashi’s words. His words are law. “Remember your place.”

But Mayuzumi, as always, makes himself a very difficult case, like he’s wrestling an imaginary someone to wrench the title of The Most Troublesome Person of the Year. “You can’t blame me for my tendencies,” he says as mock-justification, the corners of his lips upturned. “I came from a long line of alphas. Once I’m done taking all the money I can get from here, I’m out.”

“The surgery won’t be cheap.” Akashi lowers his gilded fountain pen and examines what he jotted down. The fresh magnolias on his table trembled with his slight movement. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but who’s complaining when you’re basically paying us to laze around anyway? I can get used to two or three more years of sitting around and doing nothing, and still rake in more than enough to shake my leg for years afterwards. Don’t you think you’re spoiling your harem too much?”

Akashi chuckles under his breath. Mayuzumi would always want to win, no matter the case. Amusing, if not a bit old, because Akashi’s always right and nobody has proven worthy of being superior. “It works well for your case, so why are you complaining?”

“Just checking if Your Majesty’s as attentive as he should be.” The corner of Mayuzumi’s lips pulls into a ridiculing smirk. He leans back on the plush sofa and throws a fleeting glance to the golden trees shaking in the breeze outside the windows. 

The slight narrowing of Akashi’s eyes grows colder. 

“If you stay here in my court, you will remain an omega forever. But if you undergo the surgery to rightfully claim your stake as an alpha, then you’re banished from these grounds. As long as you are an omega, you remain under my rules—though,” Akashi pauses, picking up a leather folder, “whatever you do is none of my concern after transitioning.”

The snort of derisive laughter following his words is obnoxiously loud. The cheeky concubine’s at it again, openly challenging Akashi. “I know, I’ve got this figured out. For a supposedly bloodthirsty guy, you sure nag a lot. Are you sure you’re not my mom?”

“If you call this nagging, then you best talk to dead bodies instead,” Akashi deadpans. “We have plenty of them in the royal cemetery.”

“Fair enough.”

Mayuzumi lulls himself into a stretch of silence afterwards, choosing to stuff more jelly squares into his mouth. For someone who suffers from Inter-Alpha, a genetic defect where an alpha is birthed as an omega, he’s surprisingly calm about it like he’s sorted out all the odds and ends of his difficulties. Emitting a nauseous potpourri of scents is part of the problem, other than displaying alpha-specific behaviours that belongs nowhere close to an omega. 

Raw masculinity shadowed by the omegaean qualities contradicted one another. Not an animal class he is, but an animal of his own.

Aware of Mayuzumi’s circumstances during their initial meeting, Akashi had inquired about his decisions. An Inter-Alpha is still able to bear children just like a typical omega despite their disagreeable masculinity, but most of the affected had chosen to go with their dominant self via surgeries. 

Mayuzumi is no different. He outlines his general direction in life crystal clear: He’d stay until he collects enough funds from the monthly allowances, leave to position himself under the knife, then remove himself from any traces of palace luxuries once he’s an alpha. Just as simple as that. 

But an omega is an omega. An omega has to be rightfully collected by the emperor.

Illnesses or not, their protocol covers every omega and Inter-Alphas aren't excused from the palace rules. Some said Akashi’s uncharacteristically gracious to take plight on Mayuzumi’s case and it warrants their nosing about, but nothing suspicious ever turned up in the tracks. 

Mayuzumi remained the reluctant omega he is, unaffected by palace politics despite being a favourite, and Akashi plays no part in aiding the omega’s case. As long as they’re aware of each other’s circumstances and do not try to alter it in any way or form, they’re a constant force together. 

Fluid with his movements despite his lankiness, Mayuzumi gets up to wipe his hands on the proffered lace-trimmed napkins sitting on the table. 

For a man his size to wear a kimono with its dotted sleeves swaying in the wind, Mayuzumi stands very out of place in Akashi’s office. He’s not as dainty as the carnations sitting on Akashi’s bookcase, nor delicately shaped like the handmade vases scattered in the room. He knows that, and hesitates little in making a show right out of it, the very alpha trapped in an omega’s body.

A broad swooping sound washes out their silence from beyond the windows. 

Not expecting any guests anytime soon, Akashi looks up from his papers and Mayuzumi exchanged unknowing looks with him. They’ve still got thirty-five more minutes to go, so who dares to disturb their time?

The air is heavy with sounds of strong wings flapping, as golden petals in the courtyard swirled from the vortex. The windows reflected large wings on its glass panes but as soon as Mayuzumi dashes to catch a glimpse of what it is, the shadow circled the building once, then disappears. Heavy thudding follows seconds afterwards. Something had an emergency touchdown on the grass, and the distinct alpha scent flooding the room catches their attention.

A light knock comes from the door. It doesn’t open, but a voice carries through, hurried. Had it been someone else, Akashi isn’t surprised as normal humans get startled so easily, but when it’s Midorima’s breathless rasping, he rises from his chair to let the man in.

“Akashi-sama,” says Midorima, breathing harshly through his nose. Emerald green hair ruffled beyond belief, his enormous brown-freckled wings folded right behind him, twitching minutely, responding to Midorima’s urgency. Never mind the state of dishevelment he’s in, when the news he carries is graver. “I received word that someone attacked Kise and Kuroko-sama on the way back to their palace. What are your orders, Your Majesty?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#16:** _His suit’s gone wrong in places he would’ve fussed over, but he keeps his hands dirty red when he chucks the body away. Kuroko could see the thick holes that punctured the man’s throat all the way to his jaw, and is suddenly glad he didn’t eat breakfast that morning. They would’ve gone to waste._


	16. don’t worry, it’s safe right here in my arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~it’s been a year and five days since I last updated TVP. /stares into the distance~~
> 
> 1: Originally, TVP 16 is 12k++ words long, but then after analysing the flow of the chapter and how it’s divided into sections, I decided to split it into two parts so it’ll look better. :’D The second part will be introduced as Chapter 17 instead, and the original Chapter 17 I was working on will be renamed to Chapter 18.
> 
> 2: This chapter hasn’t been beta-read by my usual darling Akai-Anna as this is super last minute and she’s busy with Christmas and I’m busy with university so :’D Please forgive any mistakes you see in this chapter.
> 
> 3: This chapter wouldn’t have made it outside alive without the help of various people encouraging me to continue along the way. ;u; My inbox is always flooded with asks about TVP, comments and reviews asking about TVP, and it’s really thanks to everyone that this chapter managed to get published. Special mentions go to [Chii](http://www.akashikuroko.tumblr.com), [Pyunpyun](http://www.pyunsukee.tumblr.com/), [Erin](http://www.muffarino.tumblr.com/), [Jarjar ~~binks~~](http://itsthechangingoftheseasons.tumblr.com/) and darling [Anna](http://www.akai-anna.tumblr.com/) for always ~~kicking my ass~~ pushing me to do this!!! (thank you for all the messages yesss)
> 
> 4: ALSO THERE ARE AMAZING FANARTS I LIE DOWN AND CRY AT THE AMAZING FANARTS I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE HERE PLS TAKE A LOOK AT THEM THEY ARE AMAZING ARTISTS !!! SCREAMS BECAUSE THEY ARE AMAZING ARTISTS !!! [Erin clearly knows what’s up](http://muffarino.tumblr.com/post/114941976540/a-self-indulgent-gift-i-made-for-ira-its-for) and [did two fanarts /BREATHES HARD/](http://muffarino.tumblr.com/post/114941192005/a-loooooooong-time-ago-ira-sked-for-help-with-a) and [here’s an amazing one from Nairuru](http://nairuru.tumblr.com/post/131376138466/inspired-by-strangulated-harlots-fantastic) and here’s also another one by [Kurope with amazing white peacock _(:’3](http://kuropefarts.tumblr.com/post/128605000665/i-started-a-fanart-for-strangulated-harlots-fic)! Thank you for all of them! Also I’m aware that some of you might have tagged me on other fanarts too but since I wasn’t around, I have lost track of them. ;u; So please let me know if you’ve done anything, I’d like to collect them because ~~I’ve got to catch them all!!!~~
> 
> 5: So yeah here’s TVP 16 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONEEEE

He was only fourteen when he witnessed a fight that broke out after school. 

The air hung heavy with a coppery smell, asphalt splotched with red liquid that looked like someone doing a bad paint job. Kuroko had no intentions to walk into the scene; a band of alphas and betas hazy with bloodlust blocked off the road, appraising each other’s strengths. He held himself together and backed away until he was squeezed between two mouldy walls, shrinking into an insignificant figure. Overhead, the rain-heavy skies thundered tumultuously, masking the roaring of the alphas. 

Kuroko barely had the time to blink when he saw red. There was nary a sound when one of them lunged past him and effortlessly lopped off someone’s head. No crack, no scream. Only wet squelching that bounced off the road, rolling off to hit an upturned dustbin. Scattered bloodstains decorated the street, stark red on black and white lines.

When alphas fight, it could be for many reasons. Clashing opinions between headstrong pack leaders, claiming mates from one another, violation of territories, the list never ends. Their lesser followers, the betas, were only for show, just to beef up the numbers for boasting. In the end, they abused the strength nature bestowed upon them. 

Thinking about it, Kise is no different from them. 

He fights brutally—sickeningly _cruel._

Kise shouldn’t look like he enjoys stabbing his claws into the perpetrator’s chest, knife sharp, to rip out a chunk of flesh in his palm. His golden eyes aren’t supposed to light up unforgivingly when sidestepping the corpse, ducking as the next assailant throws a punch at him. Kise’s usually prim hair billows in the breeze as he lunges upwards, sinking his claws into the man’s throat to hoist him up. The man’s pathetic struggle of kicking his legs in the air—Kise watches it all with a certain fascination lining his smile, patiently awaiting gravity to do its job of draining every single drop of blood away. 

Thick crimson pools around Kise’s shoes by the time he’s done. 

His suit’s gone wrong in places he would’ve fussed over, but he keeps his hands dirty red when he chucks the body away. Kuroko sees the thick holes puncturing the man’s throat all the way to his jaw, and is suddenly glad he missed breakfast that morning. They would’ve gone to waste if he regurgitated them now. 

Like a red string of fate that won’t wash off easily, Kise’s leather shoes draw a line of grisly footsteps when he approaches Kuroko. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. Eyes too bright, ears all perked up. Tail wagging low. He reaches out and tentatively touches Kuroko’s cheek; a wet smear, confirming his existence right there. Seconds later, as though Kuroko’s solidness provides comfort, Kise takes him by the whole and cradles his face affectionately with his palms. “Does it hurt anywhere, Kurokocchi?”

The freshly harvested blood staining Kuroko’s cheeks is still warm. Just as warm as Kise’s hands. 

“I’m fine, Kise-san,” he says, keeping his voice levelled. Forehead pressed on Kise’s shoulder, Kuroko pretends the spot of red on Kise’s shirt is just another bad paint job. He closes his eyes and breathes out. “Let’s go home.”

There’s no need for him to look to know Kise’s smiling at his answer.

A human’s adaptability is an amazing thing.

* * *

**the vindictive paradise**  
_16: it’s safe right here in my arms_  


* * *

_“What do you know about power play, Kuroko-sama?”_

_His question came out of nowhere, abrupt, steeling Kuroko in his spot. The teacup held between nimble fingers is poised, almost on the verge of tipping over to splash hot liquid all over his clothes. Kise plods over to correct his posture, lifting the china and placing it away on the appropriate saucer to prevent further tragedy from happening in Kuroko’s pavilion. As soon as he’s done, he straightens up with a smile too cheerful to make Kuroko think he’s up to no good, far too close into his personal territory again._

_Carefully rearranging his sleeves, Kuroko casually looks up from beneath his tamed fringe, eyes lingering on the illicit curl on one corner of Kise’s lips. “What brought this on, Kise-san?”_

_“Nothing at all.” His smile grows impossibly wider, a stitch of laughter in his voice. The shift in his expression narrows his eyes into upturned crescents, reminiscent of a court jester trying to entertain his master. “It’s an interesting concept if you want to know, since it might come in useful.”_

_There’s nothing about the concept of power play stored in his mind, or even the vaguest recollections he has about snitches of conversations in classrooms. Something about the word ‘power’ itself makes Kuroko uneasy with how little he knew in order to survive in this palace. With almost a rueful shake of his head, Kuroko murmurs, “I’ve never heard of it. What is it about?”_

_His truthful answer obviously puts Kise in a better mood, what with his fluffy tail offhandedly sweeping the ground near his feet. “I just used one form of power play on you just now. Didn’t you notice it?”_

_Did he? The concubine gradually frowns at the thought of playing right into Kise’s hands. There’s no doubt about it that Kise could whisper the sweetest lies to anyone to get his way, but Kuroko hasn’t fallen prey to his charms yet. It’s possible that he could be lying, even right now._

_His lengthy silence brings laughter to the room as Kise wiped the corners of his eyes, moist with tears. “Yes I did, I just did. You knew I know more about this palace than you do, so you were scared of what information I have with me. I even stood really close to you just to make you feel uncomfortable. You felt intimidated by me, Kuroko-sama, and that’s the reality of it.”_

_He’d admit to being confused, a tad bit more confused than usual with Kise’s lessons this time around. Tipping his head back to search for answers in the mirthful light of his golden eyes, Kuroko’s frown deepens. “So power plays revolve around intimidating someone?”_

_“Intimidating or forcing someone into getting what you want out of them,” Kise rectifies, putting his hands behind his back in the finest example of a tutor educating his liege. “There’s a lot of power plays in this world, in many different forms. Some are kind of subtle, and some are just violent, like hitting people and throwing things to vent their anger. Some people get physical when they try to prove their point, and some people prefer playing tricks on your mind just to make you think twice, just enough to make you doubt yourself into believing them instead.”_

_“They just want to win…” Kuroko murmurs, putting a hand to his mouth as he mulls over what Kise’s said. “That’s the whole concept of power play, isn’t it?”_

_Kise must’ve heard him, for the smile on his lips wavers for the slightest moment. “That’s the nasty truth of it, but we all engage in power plays from time to time. Others do it consciously to manipulate you, but sometimes you unconsciously engage in power play just by ignoring what someone else has to say or interrupting their speech. Power play is an ugly but necessary thing, something you need if you want to get further in this palace, Kuroko-sama. They might not try to control you by physically assaulting you, but they might wage a psychological warfare on you instead. And those things are the scariest.”_

_Kuroko clenches his hand tight. He doesn’t want to know, but he needs to know. And need is certainly greater than want. “Why?”_

_The smile on Kise’s lips has turned bitter, almost cynical in its transformation. “Because in the end, you’ll behave just exactly like how they want you to. And when you do, it’s game over for you.”_

_The fact that Kise bluntly lays out for him is just as unnerving as hearing the emperor’s unbarred slaughtering spree, one that made Kuroko question himself again and again and again. Whether people were just manipulating him into believing that Akashi’s hands are painted as red as his hair, or intimidating him with baseless rumours just to see him fall from Akashi’s favourite ranks. They play with his naivety, stringing him along just to see him perish in the outcome._

_“I’ll teach you more about it if you want,” Kise says, baiting him to go along with it. “You’ll use this to your advantage in the future, I’m sure of it.”_

_But there’s something about it that sits poorly with Kuroko’s wandering mind. Something about power play and the power in his hands. What they expect from him, and what he is willing to give to them. What Kise has shared with him, and what he will do with the knowledge._

_The moment Kuroko raises his head to fix Kise a vacant gaze, he already knows the answer to his question. “In this situation, who do you think has more advantage in this power play, Kise-san? You?” he hesitates, lowering his tone into a whisper, “or me?”_

_A brief flicker of something crosses Kise’s expression, unravelling him wholly._

_“That’s mean of you, Kurokocchi. Whichever way I answer, it’s checkmate for me.”_

* * *

“They underestimated you, Kuroko-sama.”

With a firm shake of his head, mindful of the many hands carding through his locks, Kuroko corrects him. “Not at all, Kise-san, they underestimated _us._ ”

Kise throws his head back with a hearty laugh, infectious enough to get a few of the maids giggling alongside him. Mischievous eyes peer from underneath lengthy lashes, complemented with a smile as though he’s won over with what Kuroko said. “You’re right, forgive me. Doing an ambush at this time and age, really, what were they thinking?”

“Obviously they’re not thinking at all,” Fuyutsuki scoffs, wearing the tightest expression she could muster as she flattens Kuroko’s hair with thick fumes of sprays. Her handmaiden sisters attacked the rest of the stubborn tufts with serums to even it out. “Unspeakable vermin—should’ve just stayed where they belonged, right in the gutters. If you brought them back to us, we would’ve eaten their limbs in front of their eyes. Let them see how cannibalistic we cats get when we’re hungry for blood.”

“My child would’ve been happy to get their eyeballs—he has a collection for things like marbles,” another maid chimes in, tittering away in her exotic lilt. 

Her answer brings much needed laughter in the dressing room, adding to the chatter in the background. It lends a semblance of normalcy to suppress the tension clouding the air. Anxiety will only serve to make him edgier, and he’s thankful for their mindfulness. 

Everywhere his eyes rove, Kuroko spots his feline helpers with their filed claws carefully pinching through his belongings, teetering on high alert for any signs of disruption of peace. Ears perked up, tails straighter than any broom, they stew about in the room and filled any possible gap with their presence. Banded together to protect him with their bodies should anything unsavoury occur any further, he knows this well enough by now. His safety takes the most importance—there is no point living otherwise. 

Kise has called for Midorima’s men to receive Kuroko’s statement in his palace, and to play the host of a foiled homicide attempt, he has to ready himself to receive an audience of wan-faced men who could ridicule him at any turn of the clock. Being a lesser—what more a new concubine in the palace will not place the odds in his favour, Kise warned earlier, where some may be making ‘educated’ guesses as to what happened.

“There’s definitely going to be someone who’s going to say this was all staged and you’re just desperate for Akashicchi’s attention.”

Fuyutsuki does the exaggerated snorting on Kuroko’s behalf. She absentmindedly waves a round brush while fixing his hair in tapered layers, grunting. “I dare that minister to say it in front of Kuroko-sama’s face when we have that audience later—we’ll torch his wings, right ladies?”

Her crowing receives appreciative hooting all around, and Kuroko barely resists the smile on his rouge-painted lips. 

His handmaidens may not be the best roses from the garden, uncouth and rowdy like thugs from the streets, but the sincerity in their service puts him in higher spirits. Enthusiasm doesn’t necessarily rub off on anyone easily, but it’s contagious enough to work its charm on him. He lets Kise chat up one of his stylists to match his wardrobe with the jewelled diadems they put together, leaning into his seat to recharge in time for tonight’s ordeal. 

Together, the domestic forces in his pavilion work overtime to fashion Kuroko into a statuesque consort, one where none may dare to belittle, one designed to intimidate with the grandeur the emperor bequeathed upon him. One who _survives_ another day and lives to wear another dress. Not many have survived such attempts, what more in an open space. 

“Beauty means cruelty, Kuroko-sama.” Kise’s eyes smile at him in the mirror, weighing heavily on his words. “You must look imposing enough to stop a man in his tracks. If you can do it, then you can easily topple an entire army of men if you want. Don’t show anyone you’re a mess; it’s a sign of weakness.”

Kuroko needs no further elaboration on the deeper meaning; it’s all stamped out on each letter. The nuance in Kise’s tone adds flavour to his warning. A warning Kuroko has to heed, and he has to heed it well for times to come. There is no greater teacher than Kise himself in the art of adapting, and Kuroko’s gone through numerous lessons with him coaching along. 

“I’ll remember that. Thank you, Kise-san.”

“You’re welcome. Remember, we should be careful with the flatterers.” The blond glances Kuroko’s way pointedly. Circling a steel trolley strewn with winding pearl necklaces, he picks up a strand and balances it on his palms. “Some of them just want to get on your good side to take advantage of your rising rank, Kuroko-sama. These snakes can smell potential courtesans from a mile away and will do anything to get them as allies. You’re loved by the emperor, so naturally you’ll be the subject of everyone’s envy.”

His statement is met with agreeable hums from the bystanders. 

One of the nearby maids sighs with a glint of wistfulness. “Kise-sama is right as always. I’ve seen one of those court proceedings before—they’ll chew you up and spit you right out when they’ve got all they needed. You don’t need to worry about the ones who say they’re your enemies from the start, just pay more attention to those who readily flock over to your side, Kuroko-sama. They only spell disaster in the long run.”

The prospect of himself being a tool is unsettling, just like everything else in this palace, but it is a future he sees no escape from. Kuroko shifts in his seat, mildly aware of the power he hides in his essence as an omega. To use, or to be used. To do, or to be done for. “Their political warfare makes them use whatever means they can get, even if they have to sacrifice someone. To them, us concubines are just disposable trinkets used to get Akashi-sama’s attention, isn’t it?”

“That’s just how things work in the palace. You’ll get used to it. Sometimes being cruel to others just means being kind to yourself,” is Kise’s encouraging reply. “When you’ve been here as long as I have, you can tell who’s planning to sacrifice you on the dining table and who wants you to be his sacrificial lamb. Most of them who came before you barely even caught Akashicchi’s interest, but you’re lucky—or should I say unlucky?” He chuckles, shrugging. “Now that you’re already a target of assassination, we know where you stand. Congratulations, Kuroko-sama.”

Close enough to be a threat in someone’s plans.

Kuroko understands that much. 

“They’re going to be merciless during the hearing,” Kise huffs, exhaling softly under his breath. “But don’t worry, I got it covered. I have a plan.”

Marching to the battlefield over-prepared is better than showing up under-equipped, the basic knowledge from the art of war. Seeing no harm in it, Kuroko offers the blond a nod. “Let’s hear it out, Kise-san.”

His answer elicits relief from the wolf, visibly soothed at his approval. The blond circles the table and the maids clear a path for him, scuttling away to stand by his side. “During court proceedings, it’s normal to allow someone else to answer on your behalf. I’d like to ask you, Kuroko-sama, to delegate all tasks of answering questions to me.” His eyes narrow, sharpening his point. “Every single one of them.”

The maids fall silent at Kise’s proclamation, going along their task steadily with their ears twitching for more. 

“They’ll use anything and everything you say against you. Those guys have their connections, their allies, _people_ who’ve sworn to serve their family. One wrong word and you won’t live to see tomorrow,” Kise continues, making quick work of explaining things to him without mincing words. “Forgive my impertinence, Kuroko-sama, but you’re still new in this palace. You’re already in grave danger as it is so don’t make more enemies. If you let me explain things for them, they’ll think twice about targeting me because I can take care of myself.”

 _And you can’t_ lies heavy in the air, unspoken out of courtesy. 

What Kise is trying to show to him is clear. The endgame is simple: To keep him breathing until the end of the day. No matter how cowardly his spread of selection may be, his survival is the key to ensure everyone else’s own. Kise is only watching out for him, doing his job of offering himself as an impregnable shield again. There’s not much of the offer to refuse, not that he could afford to. 

The reluctance in Kuroko’s voice is audible when he verbalises his agreement, fingers curling into the armrest. “I understand. I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Kise-san.”

The wolf shouldn’t look overly pleased at being offered for sacrifice in his stead, but there he is, glowing with a smile on his face as though Kuroko bestowed upon him the greatest honour. Enthusiastically bobbing his head, Kise grins. “You can count on me, Kuroko-sama. Thanks for giving me this chance.”

It’s as though an imaginary weight has been lifted from his shoulders. A part of him wades through his guilty conscience, knowing that he should be out there speaking up for himself, but this isn’t the world he knows. This isn’t the world outside the palace walls, the world with his classmates and friends and family. This isn’t the world he grew up knowing, and Kuroko hasn’t learnt enough yet. 

Now is simply not the time or the place for it.

“Put that worried face away, Kuroko-sama.” Fuyutsuki taps him on the shoulder to steal his attention. “We have to focus on the small things first to get to the bigger picture. And right now, we need to work fast to make sure we’re done before everyone gets here!” She rolls her eyes with much exaggeration, arms akimbo. “Work with us to prove them wrong.”

The concubine smiles wryly at her attempt in cheering him up, obliging her request by keeping his lips firmly shut. Her tail dips into a lacquered pot and its tip comes out stark white, dusting over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones in gentle circular motions. Kuroko makes the wise decision to screw his eyes shut when they start puffing him all over with scented powders, filling in his eyelids like he’s a colouring book, and finishing him off with liquid lines all over the gradients. 

“Kuroko-sama looks really good like this, don’t you think?” They whisper among themselves, giggling ever so often when his eyelids twitch with signs of wanting to open—only to get pinched by Fuyutsuki for disobeying her words.

“Don’t open your eyes, Kuroko-sama, not yet.” This time, Kise’s chastising voice rejoins their animated chattering. “Bring it here, please.”

Warm hands cradle his chin in a joint effort to provide support, their slender wrists smelling strongly of therapeutic massage oils that belonged in Kuroko’s bathroom. The first signs of an icy sting graze his scalp, eliciting a temporary jerk out of reflex. A foreign weight circling his head is unnatural, definitely unlike anything he’s put in his hair before. With his temporary visual restriction, he can only wonder what they’re up to as they begin clipping things into place, making up for the length of his hair. Members of the dressing room cooing is the only clue Kuroko draws from his surroundings, followed by Kise’s appreciative humming. 

Just as soon as he feels their hands lifted away from his head, leaving him alone, they return milliseconds later with a vengeance to tack more things on his hair. What a dilemma. 

“Is it going to take longer?” he asks, neck growing stiff from the foreign weight resting on his head. Not to mention, his gnawing curiosity is starting to get to him. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Of course, Kuroko-sama.” Kise, ever-dutiful, answers for them. “We hope you like it.”

Finally given permission, a strange circumstance considering he’s the most superior being present in the room, Kuroko’s eyelashes flutter as he gradually opens his eyes, mindful of the sticky wetness still clinging on his eyelids. 

Sitting on a contemporary high-backed chair, his reflection on the gilded vanity shows no signs of trepidation of what may come. There is only serenity, acceptance, _determination_. He only blooms vigorously under threat, just as the flower that blooms in adversity. 

The stage is set.

And the game has just begun.

* * *

Takao Kazunari tags alongside Midorima when they dropped by that evening.

Standing in the garden amidst shivering magnolia blossoms, great wings of blacks and browns are tinged orange with the warm glow of lit stone lanterns. Twilight consumes the skies, draping them in bruising purples bordering on blacks. Midorima’s entourage, a sea of assemblymen, all bore the crest of a bird over their chest, embroidered in gold threads over pewter grey robes. Their clothes trail all over the carpet grass as they rustle about restlessly, wings twitching, moustaches bristling, filling the air with their conspiratorial murmurings. 

Other betas often seem like inferior subspecies when compared to the impressive Midorima who’s keeping guard at the front. His magnificent condor wings are easily twice his size when unfolded—a simple swish from him could inspire a turbulent vortex that could topple them off their feet if they’re not careful enough. Such is the strength an alpha possesses. 

An alpha like Kagami Taiga, too, possesses great strength should he choose to wield it to his fullest potential. 

—well, that’s part of why he’s here. 

Having trained under them for a few weeks, it’s hard for him to say if he’s made any significant progress on his goal: To be the best bodyguard in the palace. Birds like them and tigers like him aren't really the best of friends, human-wise and nature-wise. Their approach to ‘being the best bodyguard’ involved strengthening the mind alongside the body. He shudders just thinking about it to this day—no more thirty pages of essays, no more textbooks. None of that has anything to do with being a bodyguard, Kagami’s absolutely certain about it.

But now he’s getting somewhere after a stagnant cycle of reading, sleeping, and sparring with fellow winged men. A practical lesson, a field trip of sorts as what Takao called it. In today’s class on Ethics 101, his cheeky mentor thought it’d be a brilliant idea to get him some hands-on lessons on how the real world works like. His world, in the future. A world with a proper exposure to a concubine, the palace's freshest meat, Kuroko Tetsuya. 

Just how much he knows about this Kuroko person, he can’t say he’s heard of the name before. Not much background profile fleshed out from his official documents either. All Kagami heard from Takao was to keep it _‘hush-hush’_ , something about witnessing a proper court proceeding regarding this particularly troubled concubine of theirs. After that, Midorima pulled his ear and dragged him away by the cuff, leaving Kagami alone with more questions than answers. 

Within a few minutes of his musings, a feline servant emerges from the doorway, clad in an all-black kimono. Something about its austerity stirred an ominous feeling in Kagami, a foreboding omen awaiting him at the end of the night.

“Thank you for waiting, gentlemen,” she calls out, her voice ringing clear through the garden. For such a dainty creature compared to the hulking stature of the men, her words carried loud enough to silence them. “We are now ready to receive everyone. Please, follow us.”

At her bidding, similarly clad servants materialized to usher the crowd to step foot into the palace, mustering the politest smile that hides their canines. Kagami relents and tails them from behind, letting the refreshing coldness of multiple air-conditioners wash over him. 

Being alone in this crowd of feathers, it’s easy for him to get left behind. They aren’t afraid to shove their way past him just to totter along behind Midorima and Takao, making as much small talk as they can in the short gap of time they have together. There’s something about everyone’s ignorance that unnerves him as he treads over the softest carpets he’d ever set foot on, gulping at the sight of the fashionably minimalist interior adorning the walkway. Everyone is used to opulent sights of grandeur and luxury—and some of them couldn't even care less what this is all about. 

It’s easy to forget a concubine’s suffering when Kagami looks at the abundance of wealth they’re showered with on a daily basis. And it’s a permanent reminder of the internal politics Aomine talked to him about: The pitting of consorts against one another like pit bulls in a cage fight. Their worth is nothing more than as lovely arm ornaments to hang on the emperor’s arms. The more, the better. 

“Only a concubine’s handkerchief knows the true extent of their suffering,” Momoi used to say. 

Tragic, but Kagami knows it’s the truth.

When the maids abruptly turned around the corner of a junction, strutting along a bare hallway lit with recessed lighting, swinging heavy oaken doors open for them, Kagami picks up on the change of architecture in the concubine’s quarters. It’s like being in two separate continents of the world—to his right could be the Western world and its contemporary furbishing, and to his left might as well be ancient China with its lanterns and screen doors. 

He’d barely finished gawking at the many calligraphies dancing across vertical scrolls when the maid calls out, “We now request everyone’s cooperation in keeping silent while walking through Kuroko-sama’s private chambers. Please walk swiftly and quietly, everyone—to the parlour.”

The crowd moves faster than before, jostling past him in a frenzied rush, feet scurrying on the bare wooden floor. All eyes are lost from the gentle beauty evoked by the skeletal arrangement of flowers in lean vases, the sudden bloom of paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The walls packing them in tight spots gave way to a vast space supported by a finite amount of thin banisters, hung with prismatic, almost translucent blinds casting a kaleidoscope of colours on the hardwood. 

The cats paw their way through and left him in awe of the mystifying sight, as they roll up each of the blind to guide them through the next set of corridors. As they finally breach the last set of tinkling partitions, Kagami finally spots their destination, an opened door hidden between pillars of arches.

“Please take your seats, everyone,” the maids announce in unison as they dispersed to the sides, standing guard. “We will begin the session shortly.”

Holding all sense of austerity in its design, with chandeliers webbing the ceiling and black marble flooring, the parlour is cold and spacious. One by one, the men enter and take their seats on deep crimson mats arranged in a grid-like pattern on the floor. Kagami’s eyes stray from the impressive girth of the columns supporting a network of embroidered tapestries, each elaborate picture depicting the elaborate myth of mystical animals. 

Striding into the parlour only served to make him more jittery than he thought. Somewhere underneath an imposing waterfall of crimson silks, a grand settee towers majestically on a dais, its burnished balsa wood polished to a gleam. Presumably, it is where the concubine will put himself on display for the rest of them to marvel—something Kagami isn’t mentally prepared to see. 

“You better sit,” says Midorima, gesturing to the few vacant spots available on the floor as Takao occupies the one closest to the platform. “Don’t start complaining about your legs hurting later.”

Kagami holds his hands up in an awkward shake. The reality of the situation is starting to sink its claws into his head, making his vision spin in cycles like his washing machine. “N-Nah, I’m fine, I’ll just stand over here. I’m gonna get even more restless if I sit there…”

The condor clicks his tongue, disproving his choice of action. His eyes meander around the room once, taking in how the ministers strategically spaced themselves out on the mats, and shakes his head. “Suit yourself. But don’t interfere with the hearing by distracting anyone. If you choose to stand, then stay standing until the end.”

At the sound of a distant echo, a rhythmic jingling of sorts, he stops himself short. The subtle sound is enough to subdue the chatty men into reticence, provoking uneasy exchanges of eye contacts from one another. There’s obvious dissatisfaction outlining Midorima’s glower, but he doesn’t verbalise a single word of it, walking out of the conversation just as easily as that. Something’s obviously up, but Kagami’s not like them. He’s never heard them, never seen them—never smelled the scent of their seduction. 

But it didn’t take him long to acquaint himself with the situation in hand. 

Beautiful things do not ask for attention.

That is Kagami’s first lesson for the day.

Beautiful things like Kuroko Tetsuya seizes attention effortlessly as he materialises between the grand archways, flanked by his bodyguard Kise Ryota and a dozen of maids trailing behind him. He is the eternal winter with ice sheathing his skin and his hair the colour of the arctic sky. Even the shadows on his face are too harsh a colour on him. 

Every step he takes drives Kagami further backwards, every inch of the consort edging closer nauseating him with his poisonous scent. Yet, the innocuous image Kuroko portrays is one of purity, symbolised by the ceremonial garb he wears. With hundreds of pearls embroidered as clouds on his sleeves, the wispy patterns trickle onto the train of whiteness dragging behind him. Under the gentle glow of the chandeliers, the concubine still burns pale in his silvery white robes. Only a touch of warmth lingers on his lips, the warmth of roses decaying on his lips and leaving them swollen red in its wake. 

Kagami’s never seen one up close before, what more _this_ close. If he wanted to, he could reach out a hand and pluck off a strand of Kuroko’s blue hair. But the wary wolf secures the perimeter tightly, walking just right by his guarded consort. There’s a telltale warning when Kise’s golden eyes trace past Kagami, past his rounded ears and striped tail, and a satisfactory smirk forms on his lips at Kagami’s petrified reaction. 

_Do not_ , he seems to say, _come close to what is ours—what isn’t yours._

He barely realised it but he backed up all the way to the wall, pressing his sweating back against the cool surface. His fingers are twitching, his mouth is dry, his throat grates raw with the urge to call out a name—that name, _his_ name—and for the briefest moment, a moment that solidified the sick realisation forming in Kagami’s gut, Kuroko tips his head sideways and meets his eyes—

—but the moment is gone as soon as he takes another step forward, plodding over to his dais. 

There is something terribly disquieting when you witness a funeral procession; the same way Kagami feels when he witnesses Kuroko parading past his audience of awestruck betas. He emerges bravely from the execution with his head held high as though it wasn’t scant hours ago someone tried to murder him. 

There is no fear in him: Only readiness to rise above all. 

Kuroko ascends the steps slowly, letting the drag of fabric behind him trail off as a white river on the carpets. His servants usher him towards the stiff settee and fuss over him like butterflies to a flower when he takes a seat, arranging how his robes fan out in order to frame the perfection he has become on his throne. Their low murmurings fill the hall; Kise lowers himself into a respectful kneeling position beside his charge, whispering in Kuroko’s ear. 

Kagami sucks in a quick lungful of air when the concubine briefly meets his eyes again while taking in the scene of his judgment. His world narrows down to the small curve of Kuroko’s lips that curve into an ‘oh’ like he’s acknowledged Kagami’s presence, like he appreciates having just another feline bystander in this sea of feathered creatures. 

One by one, the maids lined up by his dais, their hands pressed flat over their obi. Their wan expressions are unperturbed when Kise rises to his feet, welcoming them with a broad gesture. He is the first one to break out a smile on the stage of death. 

“Everyone, thank you for waiting. Court is now in session.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **#17:** _“You can insult me all you want, I don’t care.” There’s no regret in Kise as the man twitches weakly by his feet, struggling with his last vestiges of life. Remorseless eyes looking down on the man, he grits his teeth. “But don’t you dare insult Kurokocchi, not as long as I’m alive.”_
> 
> On a serious note, I’ve been terribly busy with university and if you’re usually on my tumblr, you’ll notice that I’ve been missing for quite a while. This is because I’m a final year, final semester university student so I’m really short on time trying to catch up with all my assignments and final year projects and thesis.
> 
> I’ll be graduating in February 2016 so as you can see, I have a few more months to go before I finish my studies. Hence my writing time is incredibly limited, but since I chose to split 16 into two parts, I can try to upload chapter 17 by next week if you readers would like to get a faster update? :’D What do you think? Please share your thoughts with me~  
> 


	17. a human's adaptability is an amazing thing

_”Right now, in this room, there are people who want you dead—no doubt about it.”_

There isn’t a shred of lie in Kise’s words as soon as he dropped to his knees, feeding Kuroko the much-needed information. He’s felt their stares stabbing him on the back when he entered the hall, and seen the disquietude rousing in the air when he takes his rightful seat on the throne. In the eyes of these strangers, he is just another pretty face about to stir drama, spinning countless years of sob stories everyone’s heard before. There’s nothing new about his situation that should warrant their alarm.

Midorima, seated at the front, is the only one who retains his general impassivity to the overall situation. His pinched brows don’t indicate which preconceived stance he’s taking on Kuroko’s case, and Kuroko doubts it he would react with bias on this matter—not that it would do anyone any good at this point. Appealing to bias would backfire, should he ever attempt it. 

“Kuroko-sama, we offer you our humblest apologies for what happened today, and our sincerest concern.” Midorima has taken much care to address him as he should be in an official hearing such as this, with his palms lying flat on each side of his thigh, sitting erect in respect. “How are you feeling?”

It’s a simple but loaded question. The only reason why he’s held himself together for this long is thanks to Kise. Without the wolf keeping vigilant beside him, as a companion, a bodyguard, a tutor, a _friend_ , Kuroko knows he’d never pull through alive. 

“He’s well, but still shaken,” is the reply Kise offers after formulating countless of responses inside his head, nodding curtly. “Thank you all for coming here on such short notice, Midorima-san, but it’s important for everyone to investigate this incident so it’ll never happen again. Not to Kuroko-sama,” Kise tips his head to indicate his charge, “and certainly not to any other concubine out there.”

Midorima holds his strong gaze forward. Only his jaw tightens. “We understand. Inform us what happened, and be sure not to leave out any detail on the attack. We promise you, Kuroko-sama, we will apprehend the perpetrator.”

Deference but certainly not defeat. He may hold power in his ranks, but Kuroko holds the emperor’s affection and attention. They’re merely playing by the century-long rule, being the experts they are. Sensing a change in the tide, Kuroko flicks a glance sideways. Kise doesn’t appear to be impressed with Midorima’s promise, but he says nothing otherwise. He’s picking his fight wisely, it seems.

“It was about 1.30 in the afternoon when we were attacked by two masked men as soon as we stepped foot outside the Royal Archives.” Kise recalls the incident with an unwavering convict that carries throughout the hall. “Beta males armed with short knives. No ID, I checked. Judging from their uniforms, they’re probably masquerading as security guards prior to our entry. They know we’d be there, and they were ready to strike as soon as we’re out.”

Nobody raised objections to his claims, but the contestable story strikes varying reactions. Some evaluated Kise with raised brows and a gaping mouth. Others rubbed their moustaches and beards in hopes they’d find an answer or two by imitating a scholar. Only Midorima retains his air of professionalism, signalling for him to continue with a subtle nod of his head. 

“Naturally, I took them out.” An odd twitch tugs the corner of his lips, shifting his smile into a smirk. “A few hits, took a chunk or two from their body, and drained one of them from blood. An autopsy report should be coming in soon, I hope.”

“Don’t you think that’s unnecessary?” a hushed mumble escapes someone from the sides; a second later, when Kise’s piercing eyes caught his, he deflates on his seat in belated embarrassment as though he hadn’t intended to share his mind. “F-forgive me, my apologies—“

“No, no, I understand your concern,” Kise acknowledges his words, although the gleam in his eyes is predatory, “but it’s completely misplaced. If someone’s trying to kill you, naturally, you’ll defend yourself.” Without letting further interruptions cut him off, the blond takes a step lower. The front-liners edged away from their seats imperceptibly. Out of fear, out of resentment, who knows? Kise doesn’t look like he cares, not when he glances Kuroko’s way and receives an agreeable smile. “The best way to make sure you’re alive is to make sure the other party is dead, don’t you think?”

That shuts him down. “Y-Yes, of course,” the man stammers, visibly shaken. “I u-understand, Kise-sama, forgive my impudence. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Yeah, you definitely weren’t thinking straight.” From beside Midorima, a young dark-haired man chortles, loud and clear. He’s a bit too cheery in this heavy atmosphere, making Midorima eye him closely. “I mean, logically speaking, what he’s trying to say is right. Those guys are out for blood. They’re just going to come back again and again in the future if you leave them alive, you know.”

At his nonchalant answer, Midorima rolls his eyes and jams an elbow straight into him. Kise chuckles at the antic, taking no offense as he watches the two exchange heated whispers for a few seconds before landing right on track again. “Takao will not speak out of turn again,” Midorima reassures him, perhaps for the sake of this ‘Takao’ person. “Please resume, Kise-san.”

“After that, I checked up on Kuroko-sama to make sure he wasn’t hurt,” Kise continues, shrugging half-heartedly. “When I saw nothing’s wrong with him, I called Midorima-san, then I took him back to the palace immediately.”

This time around, his answer sparks controversies all around. Restlessness arose in the form of headshakes and tongue-wagging, untrustworthy eyes roving all about. Several of them cast long looks on Kuroko, and he returned their gazes with an unblinking stare. 

“So you left those bodies there? Out in the open?” a red-faced beta accuses from the crowd, raising his challenging tone. He looks like he has half the mind to hurl himself at Kise if this were a bar debate. “Are you out of your mind, Kise-sama? What if there were other concubines who dropped by the Royal Archives after that? What if they saw the corpses? They’d be terrified out of their minds!”

The blond narrows his eyes and whips around to toss a look so loathsome, it would’ve struck fear in the average man. “So you propose I stand around there and wait for a second wave of attack to happen to Kuroko-sama? What if there were other men lying in ambush, waiting for us to be caught off-guard? The reason why I called Midorima-san is to inform him so he’d take care of the rest. Clean-ups isn’t my job anyway, it’s _yours_.”

“W-why you! You’re an alpha, but you’re a coward! You can’t take care of them, so you’re just running away!” the man rallies, throwing his voice. “Hell, compared to the rest of us, you have better chances at survival! What’re you doing, huh, running away with your tail between your legs!?”

Things are getting out of hand. Kuroko shifts on the settee, watching the source of discontent with blood roaring in his ears. How easily they aim to tear Kise down to shreds, how merciless they can be towards one of their own. Friends in one day, and enemies in the next day. Covered by his sleeves, Kuroko digs his nails into his thighs, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“You’re not even listening to what I just said.” Kise isn’t one to concede to defeat, shaking his head with a hard laugh. All the gold in the room lights his face a sickly yellow, the colour sharpening the contrast in his irises. “I’m just one alpha guarding one omega, up against many other betas. How well do you think I’m going to perform? Say if there were five more men—or even six, do you think I can hold up my admirable job of guarding Kuroko-sama while being vastly outnumbered?”

“You’re just making excuses—“

“You’re the one making excuses, trying to detract us from this discussion by putting all your attention on something as petty as leaving the corpses out in the open,” Kise spits out, gritting his teeth. “Ask yourself, how many other concubines go to the Royal Archives, hmm? It doesn’t matter if they see it or they don’t. I did my job to protect Kuroko-sama, and if you’re trying to put the blame on someone, try putting it on yourself first. After all, it’s your department’s job to clean that up.”

His logic is sound, but at this rate, they’re just throwing stones at him in hopes of leaving dents in his defences. 

“Kise-sama, please think about the reports coming in!” another man hurls, jabbing a finger at Kise’s direction. “You keep saying it’s our fault over and over again, but you’re not thinking how it’ll be for us!”

“Why should I?” Kise challenges, squaring his jaw. Neck corded tight with veins to restrain his animosity, he controls his overall calmness. “If nobody saw the fight, then there’s no need for complaints to come through. We took our chances of survival by fighting to live.” To his credit, his tongue sharpens with the slant of his eyes. “Or, should I say, you don’t want us to survive at all?”

He strikes a nerve in many.

“Wh-why you! You’re—“

Amidst cries of outrage and disbelief, many have risen to their feet, pulling back their sleeves and straightening up their clothes. Kuroko’s never seen middle-aged men colouring this fast before; they are the epitome of rage with their bulging eyes and flaring nostrils, throwing angry insults one another another at the blond. Kise regards them with disconnected impassivity.

Perhaps he’s seen this coming.

Or perhaps he’s experienced this before, just like any of them.

“That’s enough.” Midorima’s booming voice shoots straight through the ruckus, putting a stop to whatever’s left of their dissatisfaction about Kise’s words. Still on his knees, still seated—albeit with Takao worryingly placing a hand on his back, the condor looks over his shoulder. “Your words were uncalled for, Shigeru. I demand everyone to be quiet. Nobody else will speak out of turn.”

At his address, some are wise enough to fall on their seats once more. They crumble easily at a word from Midorima’s commands. But others—

“He’s just a new concubine, he doesn’t know anything!” someone from the far back calls out. “They lie, they cheat—he’s got you set up, Kise-sama!”

This time around, the insults have gone way past Kise, hitting Kuroko himself. 

He can’t say he hasn’t seen it coming, having witnessed how they’re treading on Kise without much consideration for their words, but getting accusations thrown right in his face isn’t a sensation Kuroko’s fond of. For them to have this much of mistrust on a new concubine, there must have been cases of newer concubines organising homicides, just for the sake of begging for sympathy and attention from the emperor. Cheap, harrowing tactics, trading their lives for a few words of kindness and affection from Akashi.

“Not another word, Hosoya,” Midorima warns, locking his eyes with the blond; a sign for Kise to stand down and to let everything simmer once more. “I will detail everyone who’s spoken up against my will with a show-cause letter. Your failure in answering favourably will result in your suspension.”

“With all due respect, Midorima-sama,” the man snaps, visibly curling his lips, “that concubine is only manipulating Kise-sama because he’s young and easily influenced! If it were Haizaki-sama, he won’t even hesitate to cut off anyone who’s pulling him around!”

At the mention of the unfamiliar name Haizaki, Kise’s ears pricked forward, tail bristling behind him. Something has changed. The wolf makes his immediate retreat to Kuroko’s side as though his presence would lend him strength, making no effort to venture elsewhere. When Kuroko raises his head from the angry crowd and tries to catch his attention, Kise firmly evades the eye contact, hands clasped behind his back. 

White knuckles strain against thin skin.

“The days I spent with Kuroko-sama taught me all I need to know about him,” Kise answers, his words dignified as they carry throughout the hall. “He’s shown me nothing but kindness even in my misgivings and has given me more respect than anyone ever did. If there’s something about my ‘naivety’ that you don’t like, then make a petition to Akashi-sama and see if he’ll want to have Haizaki on the team again.”

Something about Haizaki has Kise teetering on the edge, clearly unlike anything he’s ever seen before. Kuroko makes a mental note to address—or rather, poke around his maids in private with the name as a bait. 

“Kise-sama has proven to be unfit for his position, Midorima-sama. His attachment to the concubine blinds him,” Hosoya protests, cupping his chin in annoyance. His lizard eyes alternate between Kuroko and Kise before finally settling on Midorima’s broad back. “I’ll take up on your suggestion then, Kise-sama. We’ll have Haizaki-sama reinstated.”

“Do what you wish to do, provided that Akashi-sama will listen to you. He is the one who removed Haizaki from his duty. That should give you a fair idea of what his response will be,” Midorima responds coolly without sparing Hosoya a glance. “But tonight, you need to explain yourself in my office as soon as this hearing is over. As for the rest of you, I expect the show-cause letters to be returned latest by tomorrow noon.”

The authoritarian in Midorima effectively tramples out the rest of the disobedience stirring in the room. Those who wanted to argue swallowed their speeches, and those who were personally called out exhibited varying degrees of resentment in their expressions. Whatever their personal grudge may be, Kise takes this chance to cross his arms and scan the room for further outbursts. Hearing nothing else but shrill silence, he nods his approval and clears his throat.

“We'll take a thirty-minute break before resuming. The meeting is adjourned.”

Addling adoration and loyalty is dangerous. Kise has promised him both, and he has done nothing but to fulfil his words over and over again, fending off these lie-starved assemblymen in Kuroko’s name. But just sitting pretty and boldly eating their insults for dinner rustles unrest within Kuroko. He agreed to maintain silence on the matter, but his patience has run thin when they kept up with their stream of insults.

Something has to be done. Something to show that he isn’t just another pretty face hiding behind an alpha, something to show them that he shouldn’t be underestimated. Something to prove to them he is able to stand on his own, something to warn them that he is worth the target. Something to tell them that he, too, can protect Kise.

Kuroko traded his family and his life just to be here. And they will see him ascend to victory. 

As soon as Kise is about to step off the dais to join Midorima, Kuroko raises a hand. His slight movement terrifies many; they shrink into their seats once more. At this meek display, he quirks a brow.

Who knew a lowly, _deceitful_ concubine like him held this much of power in all actuality?

Even Kise regards him in horror, his mouth gaping like a fish. _No_ , he mouths, _don’t do it—don’t do it, Kurokocchi, it’s not worth it._

But it’s too late. He’s set his mind on it. Something has to be done. When else, if not now?

Gathering the silks on his lap, Kuroko slowly rises to his feet. All eyes are on him; they are in awe, fear, resentment. He is the one who holds the most power in the room with his status as an omega. One who is loved by the emperor, one who holds the crown of his attention. The tremor from Kuroko’s fingertips spreads to his hand, hand to his wrist, wrist to his arm, but Kise stands along alongside him in this fight. 

He has been, all this while.

And Kuroko will not let him down. 

“I’m not blessed with an animal trait, unlike everyone else. Cats have their claws, and birds have their wings,” says Kuroko, pressing his lips together. His statement is met with waves of appreciative nods from his handmaidens, and their approval resonates strongly with him. “When you are a beta, you stand a chance to escape and live. But when you are an omega, who will be your champion?”

The lasts of his words echo in the room.

Nobody dares to look him in the eye.

And satisfaction finally washes in successions over him.

* * *

“Kuroko, a word.”

Each action has its repercussions. As the rest of the men retreat to an adjoining room, fetching refreshments that have been served as an interlude, Midorima sends Takao to keep an eye on them. He’s purposely chosen not to participate with their gossipy discussions. Instead, he leads Kuroko into the hallway, where the handmaidens have already prepared a waiting room in advance. It is as though they’ve seen this coming right after Kuroko’s flagrant outburst. 

With the oaken doors shut tight, guarded by his maids, Midorima gestures for them to take a seat. Seeing no other outcome available, Kuroko takes the sofa by the moonlit window as Kise hovers close, learning with his back to the wall, propping his foot against the surface. 

“I don’t know if I should clap for your bravery or call you out on your stupidity,” Midorima snaps out, scathing. He removes his glasses and cleans the lenses carefully, as though he couldn’t bear the sight of their stupidity after the stint. “Kise, you did your job well, but provoking the rest of the men was foolish. Did you forget their vendetta against you?”

In his seat, Kuroko subtly shifts to angle his body towards Kise, waiting for an answer. If this is the prelude to the man called Haizaki and how they rallied for his reinstatement, paying closer attention would provide him sufficient merits. Any problem of Kise’s should also be his, whether in the long run or not. 

The wolf emits a long-suffering groan like he’s had repeats of this moment in the months before Kuroko’s arrival. “Midorimacchi, whatever I do or say isn’t ever going to please them anyway, so why should I care? They’re never going to take my side. I’m done with them.”

A sigh. Finding little to argue with it comes to Kise and his pig-headed stubbornness, Midorima settles for Kuroko. His gaze weighs heavily on the teen’s shoulders, like a father catching his son playing hooky for the day. “And you. You should’ve kept quiet. Kise should’ve told you the proceedings of these events; anything you say might cost you your life.”

“I don’t regret my actions, Midorima-san.” Kuroko shakes his head, holding strong to his belief. He feels Kise’s eyes boring holes into his skull, but he doesn’t entertain the blond’s questioning look. “I can’t just sit there and say nothing when they’re attacking us. Kise-san is right. Nothing we do or say will please them or change their minds, so it’s not worth the time or even effort to do so.”

The condor fixes his glasses on the bridge of his nose again, scrutinising Kuroko a bit too closely this time. Minutes of silence are spent on him entertaining his thoughts, gauging their reactions. Then, he exhales softly. “Your emotions are getting the best of you. I was afraid it’d come to this.”

The accusatory note in Midorima’s voice has Kuroko frowning.

“About what, Midorimacchi?” Kise retorts. “If this is about Haizaki—“

“Silence. You will not speak any further.” Midorima stops him, reprimanding the blond, whose tail has started to swish from side to side in agitation. Kuroko’s patient waiting and Kise’s change in temperament are two different things, leading him to a sigh. “There’s nothing else we can do to correct what’s done. The best I can do is to guide you to the next path.”

“And what’s that going to be?” Kise tries.

Midorima’s gaze lands on Kuroko. “You need to move houses.”

A foreseeable circumstance. 

Kuroko leans deeply into his chair, sinking deeper with each passing second. The peace of this pavilion is threatened by these masked assailants who’ve met their demise today; who’s to say there aren’t more of them and they won’t trace Kuroko’s footsteps all the way here? Midorima’s plan only suggests he’s looking out for the best in Kuroko’s welfare, securing him another day to live, to breathe. Anyone could gauge the benefits for themselves. 

“If you stay here any longer, it’ll get more dangerous. I know it’s too soon since it’s only been a month, but this is for your own safety. We can’t have you two staying here, not after all that's happened. File the paperwork, Kise, I’ll give you two days to complete it. Then I’ll organise which pavilion you’ll occupy.”

“Two days?!” Kise yelps, standing in attention. “Midorimacchi, that’s too short! Do you even know—“

Midorima isn’t having any of his whining. “It’s long enough if you put your head to it. Just sit down and concentrate—“

“—no human can concentrate _that_ long,” Kise grumbles. “In the first place, why do you even make those papers so complicated anyway?! At least four—“

His glasses glint. “Two. And that’s final.”

“But—“

Their arguments, tossed back and forth, dims to a buzz in Kuroko’s mind as he contemplates his days ahead. Recent events have progressed far beyond his control, farther than what he dared to imagine. His days of normalcy are over the moment the emperor took notice of him. Akashi’s court of lovers is tormented by death threats, wearing only their dresses for breastplates as they march into war against one another. 

Undeniably, he is one of them, a competitor who needs to be adequately disposed.

His faceless enemies act based on news, grapevine rumours circulated by the maids and guards, grasping everything and anything to secure their triumph. In Akashi’s city, the walls have ears. And there are always eyes, watchful eyes reporting their every move. 

One of his own maids could be playing the part of the mastermind’s puppet. 

_”You will please me even more so if you accept my orders to move you to where I can have access easily,”_ Akashi had said. 

Kuroko resisted succumbing to the pressure back then, knowing the traps lying behind Akashi’s invitation, but his eyes have seen through it all. Now, with nowhere else left to hide, he’s forced to flee the comforts of his pavilion and relocate to another. What other place is better than right by His Majesty’s side? Where he can have access easily, just as he wanted?

This is Akashi’s chessboard. And he is a pawn in the city of squares. 

Having gathered his thoughts, Kuroko exhales softly. “When I last met Akashi-sama, he personally invited me to live in his inner palaces. At that time, I refused because I was content where I am. But after today, I’m starting to have doubts if I’m truly making the right decision for everyone.”

His sudden statement cuts off whatever’s left of Midorima’s argument with Kise. The blond is the first one to push himself off the wall, circling Kuroko in disbelief, while Midorima’s paused mid-sentence to regard Kuroko solemnly. His unrelenting gaze tests the honesty of Kuroko’s words. The concubine rises to the challenge by nary batting a lash. 

“Lying about something the emperor said will not reflect well on your records.” Midorima threatens. “Don’t put words in his mouth if you don’t want your tongue to be cut off.”

As expected, having to convince a stout character like Midorima is a battle Kuroko has to fight on his own. There are no allies with him. Not when Kise’s narrowed eyes are clouded with hurt—betrayed, left in the dark, unknowing. He’s taken the initiative to fall into another armchair with a deep sigh, fingernails raking through the fine strands of his hair. 

An agitated display. Nobody is pleased with his sudden confession. 

“There’s no reason for me to lie, Midorima-san,” Kuroko says, a reassuring plea for them to listen without judging. “You can confirm it with Akashi-sama if you see him again. Truthfully speaking, the reason why I said no to him was because I didn’t see myself as someone valuable enough to be placed close to him. Here is where I belonged with Kise-san. I don’t need what he offered me.”

“And what exactly is that he offered?” Midorima cocks a brow. 

There’s no hiding the glaciers in Kise’s eyes as Kuroko’s lips curve with each syllable: “A place in his inner palaces as one of his favourites.”

Being named as a favourite of the emperor must have meant a great big deal to Midorima, one who’s used to Akashi’s constant pruning of his court of flowers. He lowers his guard and occupies a chaise lounge chair closest to the teen, putting him within proximity of his scent. With his fingers twined together, elbows on his knees and hunched over, Midorima’s eyes darken with conspiracy.

“Is that what he told you, Kuroko?”

A nod. Kuroko’s eyes catch the twinge of pain darting through Kise’s face at his confirmation. “Akashi-sama said I’m worthy enough to replace the others. But his offer wasn’t enough to sway my opinion at that time.”

“No wonder there are people who want you dead, Kurokocchi.” Kise’s short laugh is a hollow sound, contempt lacing his voice. “You said no to what others have been vying for—for months, _years_ even.”

It would all boil down to that—how foolish a decision he made just because he was content wherever he may be. As much as Kuroko yearned for nothing more than tranquillity to resurface in his palace, others are readily trying to snatch the peace he enjoys. If he fights, he’ll be drawn into the quicksand of troubles looming ahead. If he doesn’t, he’ll be as good as declaring himself dead to the rest of the world. There is no winning without struggling. 

“I know what I did looked stupid to others, but I had my own reasons.” Kuroko’s blue eyes flit from examining Midorima’s sour expression to Kise’s startling indifference—of how hurt he is at Kuroko’s silence over the matter. “I was worried about my own standing, to be honest. This isn’t normal. At the rate of how I’m advancing, it’s attracting too much attention.”

“Indeed, it’s not normal for an ordinary concubine to get this far. Even the most well-bred concubine won’t be this lucky. There must be something else about you that caught His Majesty’s interest…” Midorima reaffirms his suspicion, a thoughtful light wading through his eyes. But he doesn’t pursue the dangerous train of thought, choosing to leave behind his musings in favour of inspecting Kuroko. “At any rate, you don’t need to worry. Akashi-sama is an honourable man. If he promised you a spot in his favourites, then I’ll take your word on it.”

“But Midorimacchi, I can understand why Kurokocchi’s wary about this in the first place.” Kise chimes in, a teasing bite in his voice. It gets them to look at him, especially Kuroko, with a closer eye. “It’s like telling him to wear a noose like it’s a necklace. He’s only going to get caught up in more trouble if he gets any closer to Akashicchi, don’t you think so?”

“What more trouble can we get other than this? There are many people who’ve already painted a bulls-eye target over your name,” Midorima grumbles in annoyance, adjusting his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Folding his arms over his chest, he clears his throat, his voice a notch softer than before. “Even if you say no to Akashi, you don’t have the right to stop his advances. In the end, it’ll be the same as saying yes to him. At least if you agreed, you will be placed closer to him and his protection. There’s no avoiding attention, whether you like it or not.”

What he said is an undisputed truth, coming from years and years of knowledge on how things work within the palace grounds. And it isn’t something Kuroko can easily deny, coming from his inexperience. He doesn’t have the right to resist the emperor, what more deny his advances. 

“Kurokocchi’s always been weird, seriously,” Kise comments, a corner of his lips lifting into a small smirk. “Other concubines would be taking advantage of your position. You’re already riding into victory, so people want you dead as soon as possible. It’s either that or they’re making notes on how to get into your good books.”

In other words, he’s been stripped free of his rights to make his own decisions.

“Tell me something.” Midorima props his head against his palm, an indecipherable expression on his face. “Are you ready to pass the rest of your years in this palace without an ambition? Are you content with being a nameless concubine, attached to a man who doesn’t even acknowledge your existence? This is what the rest of the concubines are suffering from, and you’re sitting right here, throwing away an opportunity just because you deemed yourself unworthy of him. He knows what is right.”

The wolf pockets his hands and tries to smile. But it is a feeble imitation of something insincere, something that is breaking inside of him. Something hindered by his duty, something he doesn’t even have the right to feel. 

“And he knows you can take whatever life wants to throw your way if you want to be with him that badly, Kurokocchi.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself short as his ears perked up, twitching about. Seconds later, his melancholic expression morphed into something else.

“What’s wrong, Kise?” Midorima gets up from his seat, concerned. “Why did you stop sudden—“

“—I smell blood. Lots of it.” Kise interrupts him, angling his head away from the window to gaze at the locked doors, a frown marring his face. “Something’s happened outside.”

Blood? Kuroko rises from his chair, throwing a glance at the heavy doors blocking his way. As much as he wants to dismiss Kise’s sudden warning, even Midorima falls silent, his feathery wings rustling restlessly behind him. Neither of them picked up its stench, not even a whiff of it in the air. Kise's deathly certainty of the rusted scent coming their way does not bode a fair omen for them, even more so for Kuroko himself.

Whatever it is that Midorima’s thought of, it looks like Kise thinks the same way too. It doesn’t take him long to react with approaching Kuroko steadily, throwing a protective arm around the concubine’s shoulder. 

The anxiety lingering in his heart gives way to distress. 

Pressed close to Kise’s chest, Kuroko feels the tremors running through his body. He’s shaking, Kuroko realises. Shaking from fear? No, that’s not it. The wolf is the most fearless man he’s ever known, someone who doesn’t even hesitate to tear a man apart just to save Kuroko. Then what is he shaking from? Kuroko doesn’t know.

Slowly, he presses his palm flat against Kise’s chest. 

_Thump, thump, thump—_

And Kise’s hand grasps his. 

“Someone just screamed outside,” he mutters under his breath, lowering his eyes. The unusually sullen look doesn’t suit him, and he’s never this serious before. “I was afraid it’d come to this.”

His thumb caresses the tips of Kuroko’s fingers, just enough to send waves of warmth into his limbs that have gone icy cold out of dread. This intimate gesture is just like Kise, trying to comfort him even in times of great difficulty. 

“Please listen to me,” he whispers again, just loud enough for Kuroko to hear. “When I say run, whatever you do, you have to run. Got it?” 

No. Kuroko curls his fingers into Kise’s shirt, fingernails digging deep into his flesh. _No, not like this—_ “Kise-san, please don’t be ridiculous,” he retorts as softly as he could, wary of the menace threatening to tear them apart. “I won’t leave without you. You have to stay with me wherever I go because you’re my bodyguard.”

Normally, Kise would’ve laughed and play it off with a smile at his obstinacy, but he doesn’t. 

The only answer Kuroko receives is the telltale tightening of his grasp on Kuroko’s hand, as if he never wanted to let him go. 

“Please be safe, Kurokocchi.”

The moment those words left his lips, another scream punctures the silence in the hallway outside the room. Midorima snaps his attention to the window when numerous wings take flight into the night, hoarse shouts and yells masking the erratic flap of their wings. Some of the ministers have fled the pavilion, escaping the soon-to-be battleground to save their lives. The condor clicks his tongue in disgust at their blatant display of cowardice.

“Here it comes, Kise,” Midorima warns, “get ready.”

He nods. 

Kuroko jolts in time with the warning when the double doors burst open. Blood-streaked Fuyutsuki sprints into the room with a masked man scant meters away behind her, expertly wielding a dagger in his hand. The gruesome sight of Fuyutsuki’s cheeks smeared with blood, tattered clothes stained red, and a bleeding lip makes his stomach turn as she desperately runs towards him.

“Kuroko-sama!” she shrieks. “Please save yourself!”

As soon as she dashes past Midorima, the condor swoops past her on his knees, his great wings stretched into flight. The assassin barely has time to react with the abrupt assault, colliding into the impressive stretch of Midorima’s heavy wings with a solid blow straight to his midriff. The momentum sends him toppling over upside down on his head, landing with a nauseating crack as he falls flat on his back. 

But it’s not over yet. 

Kise releases Kuroko from his protective hold, letting him rush over to Fuyutsuki’s side as she doubles over on the ground, panting breathlessly. He steps over the weakly twitching assassin, towering over the man. As Kuroko gathers his trembling maid into his arms, letting her sob in relief on his shoulder, he catches an unforgiving glint in the golden flecks of Kise’s eyes. 

“You have only one chance to answer,” he calls out, terse. “Who sent you?”

“G-go fuck yourself, Kise Ryouta,” the man hisses. “You’re a useless bitch controlled by none other than that scum Kuro—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish the concubine’s name when Kise lunges towards the ground, bringing down his claws to gore through the man’s neck. A gurgle of blood, a choked sputter of words, and Kise removes his hand to reveal the sizeable holes circling his neck, leaking blood profusely. Fuyutsuki gives a yelp at the sound and Kuroko hides her face with his lengthy sleeves, a despairing look on his face as he watches Kise straightening up once more.

“You can insult me all you want, I don’t care.” There’s no regret in Kise as the man twitches weakly by his feet, struggling with his last vestiges of life. Remorseless eyes looking down on the man, he grits his teeth. “But don’t you dare insult Kurokocchi, not as long as I’m alive.”

Whether the man hears the last words spoken to him, Kuroko doesn't know, but salvation is already too late for him. Not even the least bit perturbed with his death, the wolf turns to cast a once-over at the two of them, evidently satisfied with their safety. Yet his callous expression never changed, not even once. He’s always unfeeling when it comes to executing those who besmirched Kuroko’s name.

Midorima smoothens his robes, blasé to the blood spilled on the carpet. If anything, he looked more peeved about the assault taking place all over the pavilion. Thumbing over Fuyutsuki’s way, he barks out an order: “You over there, tell me what’s going on. Make it quick, we need the details.”

Still trembling, Fuyutsuki’s ears are pressed flat against her hair when she raises her head. She fixes her owlish eyes on the men, stuttering through chattering teeth. “I-It was too s-sudden, Mi-Midorima-sama. I wasn’t t-there but w-we heard someth-thing crashing in the refreshment h-hall and then e-everyone s-screamed—“

“So they came in when nobody’s on guard. That’s too convenient a timing,” Midorima curtly surmises the situation without letting her finish, glancing at the doors left ajar. Deep in thought, Kuroko observes his mild transition of irritation to worry, judging from the fine lines gradually pulling into a frown on his forehead. “This was definitely planned right from the start. Someone must’ve tipped them off.”

Left with nothing else to do, Kise flicks his wrist sharply to dislodge any traces of blood left clinging to his outstretched claws, leaving crimson blooms all over the solid marble. “You can just say that it’s an inside job, Midorimacchi,” Kise reckons, shrugging. “That means I’m right: There were definitely some people in the room who wanted us dead at the library. It’s their underlings.”

He must’ve stepped on a landmine when Midorima clears his throat in disproval. There’s no agreement or denial on the matter. What he offers instead is something else altogether.

“Kuroko, you need to go. Now.”

 _Go?_ Go where, exactly? This is his home, one he painstakingly tried to build with Kise. Fleeing now wouldn’t take him anywhere, not that he has the slightest idea how to run away from this maze of death. To run away blindly without having prior knowledge of where and whom he should seek protection with, it was a suicidal proclamation from the start. What about the rest of his maids, his helpers, the cooks? Leaving them to fend for themselves when they’ve been nothing but kind towards him leaves a sour taste in Kuroko’s mouth.

It might’ve been the adrenaline rush controlling him, but there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in Kuroko’s voice when he looks away from Midorima, meeting Kise’s eyes in the process. “If I have to go, then we’ll all go together, Kise-san. Let’s gather the remaining maids and—“

“No.” Kise’s voice is firm, unyielding, an echo of Midorima’s decision. “Kurokocchi, you have to go. I’m staying behind to protect you.”

No. 

Not like this. Hands balling into fists, Kuroko tries in desperation to fight off the little trembles under his skin. He’s seen the movies, read the novels, and heard the stories of those who stayed behind to protect others. 

They never returned. 

Kise must’ve caught the look in Kuroko’s eyes, for he offers the faintest imitation of a smile. “You’re so stubborn, Kurokocchi, but then again, that’s just like you,” he jokes, yet there’s not a teasing bite in his voice. Not anymore. “Don’t make this any harder for me, I’m begging you.”

No.

Stubborn, stubborn Kuroko wants to seize him by the wrist and drag him out of the room, dashing madly together for the exit. They’ll pass through the torch-lit courtyards and Kise will slaughter any threats coming their way. Midorima will fly off to safety, carrying Fuyutsuki with him, as they rendezvous together with the rest of the surviving ministers. Once Kise reaches his car, he’ll toss Kuroko in the backseat and ride out of the pavilion, finding refuge elsewhere. 

Kise needs to be together with him. 

Kuroko knows his voice is shaking when he says, “No. What you’re doing is suicide. As my bodyguard, you’re supposed to be with me at all times. Not like this.” He catches himself when his voice breaks, looking away when Kise’s eyes soften with the audible sign of his weakness. “…no, and I mean it. You’ll fight along with Fuyutsuki and I. You have to come with me.”

He knows he sounds selfish. Always selfish, always looking out only for himself. Always selfishly using Kise for his wants, his needs. Always taking advantage of Kise’s affection and attention, using him as a stepping stone for glory. Always wanting Kise to stand by his side when things go bad, when things go awry. Always listening to Kise and his endless droning of stories that nobody found interest in. 

Always Kise. Never anyone else. 

He doesn’t see Kise’s face, but Kuroko knows what kind of expression he’s making when he says, “I can’t.”

“No.” Again, selfish Kuroko makes his demands. Selfish, selfish Kuroko and his trembling hands, blurring eyes. “You have to. I’m ordering you. Protect me, Kise-san.”

“No… I can’t, Kurokocchi,” he repeats, soft. His voice takes on the tone of a placating boyfriend trying to coax his lover after a fight, and Kuroko hates that. Hates that part of Kise that remains cool, remains unruffled even at times like this. “Midorimacchi and I will be staying behind here. They’ll think you’re still around somewhere if I’m staying behind, so that’s going to buy you some time while you get away. My priority is to make sure you’re safe, no matter what. That is my main duty as your bodyguard, and I’ll make sure to see it through.”

Kuroko opens his mouth despite the warning glare in Midorima’s eyes, but Kise cuts him off just as fast. “Fuyutsuki. Get Kuroko-sama out of here, that’s my order to you.” He rummages in his pocket for a set of car keys, and tosses them over to the quivering feline. “Take the door behind you, it leads to the secret basement. There’s a bulletproof car already parked in there. Just drive through the straight tunnel until you see light. You’ll exit at the gates closest to the security centre, but ignore it. We can’t trust anyone there. Just keep on driving until you reach Akashi-sama’s quarters, that’s where you’ll be safe.”

She nods rapidly, holding the silver keys to her chest even as her sniffling grows louder. 

“Hurry up, Kise, we don’t have time,” Midorima grits out, brows creasing as the screams grew nearer and nearer. “Let’s go.”

No, no, no— 

“Kise-san, you can’t—“ Kuroko’s vision blurs and he hears the thrum of blood rushing through his ears, feels Fuyutsuki’s cold hand grasping his wrist, but he knows Kise can’t stay here, _knows_ he can’t live without— “Please don’t _leave_ —“

There is sympathy in his bodyguard’s eyes, hearing the mangled mess of words coming from him. But Kise’s verdict comes with a smile that barely reaches his eyes. “Fuyutsuki. Hurt him if it gets him out of here.”

And her hand wresting his turns into an unyielding grip.

She wrenches him away as easy as a one would do to a child, restraining him by his hands and dragging him backwards until her claws puncture his flesh. Kuroko hears a hoarse voice shouting for Kise, calling for him in a pained cry, but why is his throat hurting and his eyes blurring? Her fingers dig deeper and he struggles harder, feeling her claws tearing through muscles, ribboning the silks, dimly registering that it is his voice desperately crying for Kise, fighting to reach him. 

A certain finality is in Kise’s expression as he watches Kuroko struggling against his new saviour, yet he makes no move to be with him this time. 

All he does is to stand with his blood-crusted fingers, smiling his last smile. 

Then the doors close, and all is black to the world. 

**[to be continued]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here ends the first arc of TVP. Honestly this story’s been such an emotional roller coaster (prolly not for yall but for me bc ive been writing this stuff ever since I was 20?? And now im 23??? W a t have I been doing omg???) and yes I want to punch myself in my face but at least im done with my master’s degree now??? 
> 
> **OK SO MOST IMPORTANTLY WHAT HAPPENS TO TVP?**  
>  1: I’m gonna go back on the first few chapters and edit the shit out of it. No jk rly. I’ve spent too much of time writing reports until I’ve lost the power to write creatively. It’s like. I lost 89% of my vocabulary for fics /insert horrified emoji here So maybe by rewriting certain chapters and rereading, I can relearn how to write again qwq ) if anyone has great tips for picking up writing again, pls share ty <3   
> 2: At the same time I’m gonna start on the second arc of TVP. 8) this isn’t the end of it lol we’ve got a long way to go   
> 3: is kise dead  
> 4: idk either.   
> 5: jk I know. 8)   
> 6: whats gonna happen in next arc? 8))) all things brutal as kuroko grows closer with Akashi, yet doesn’t wish for him to be closer. 8))) dis gon get gud.   
> 7: MERRY CHRISTMAS!  
> 8: ok im out good b y e


End file.
